CI

    O truant Muse what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dy'd？ Both truth and beauty on my love depends； So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer Muse： wilt thou not haply say, 'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd； Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay； But best is best, if never intermix'd'？ Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb？ Excuse not silence so, for't lies in thee To make him much outlive a gilded tomb And to be prais'd of ages yet to be. Then do thy office, Muse； I teach thee how To make him seem long hence as he shows now.