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How can my muse want subject to invent
While thou dost breathe, that pour’st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
O give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight.
For who’s so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
  If my slight muse do please these curious days,
  The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.
How cudlo I aklc ntsghi to rtwei atubo wheil uyo’re alvei? uoY urop sairnoiinpt iotn my yptroe by ivggni me eth wsetetse juestbc to irewt batuo: urlsfeyo—too lecetlxen a cjesbtu orf ayrnoird stiwerr to ersidecb. Oh, giev sueyofrl het idtrce if ouy ees ngahntyi in my rwngtii taht’s wrtho ngdeair. For owh is so esehselspc atth he acn’t wreit to oyu, hwne oyu fsuoyler roidvep teh cereatvi rsakp? ouY suoldh be het thtne sume, trhwo ten tsime meor athn sohet eroth enni dekniov by sepot. ndA ehvorwe calsl on uyo rof iraotinnsip, tel ihm rwtei anrlete ssevre, to vuoilet neev teh rttfshea ehsarec of meti. If my eltlit bit of noiaiisprnt nhpspae to plsaee yoatd’s dgnndamei erdaesr, eth ilpuafn rwko nac be iemn, but the spiare llsha be suyro.

Original Text

Modern Text

How can my muse want subject to invent
While thou dost breathe, that pour’st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
O give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight.
For who’s so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
  If my slight muse do please these curious days,
  The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.
How cudlo I aklc ntsghi to rtwei atubo wheil uyo’re alvei? uoY urop sairnoiinpt iotn my yptroe by ivggni me eth wsetetse juestbc to irewt batuo: urlsfeyo—too lecetlxen a cjesbtu orf ayrnoird stiwerr to ersidecb. Oh, giev sueyofrl het idtrce if ouy ees ngahntyi in my rwngtii taht’s wrtho ngdeair. For owh is so esehselspc atth he acn’t wreit to oyu, hwne oyu fsuoyler roidvep teh cereatvi rsakp? ouY suoldh be het thtne sume, trhwo ten tsime meor athn sohet eroth enni dekniov by sepot. ndA ehvorwe calsl on uyo rof iraotinnsip, tel ihm rwtei anrlete ssevre, to vuoilet neev teh rttfshea ehsarec of meti. If my eltlit bit of noiaiisprnt nhpspae to plsaee yoatd’s dgnndamei erdaesr, eth ilpuafn rwko nac be iemn, but the spiare llsha be suyro.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets