Shakespeare’s speaker is frustrated with his Muse, the source of his creative inspiration, for neglecting her duty. He demands to know why she has been silent so long, wasting her energy on worthless subjects instead of honoring his beloved. The mood is one of affectionate exasperation: he calls her “forgetful” and “resty” (lazy), yet his tone urges her to return and make things right. He wants her to write verses that will give his love lasting fame, outracing time’s destruction. If age has left wrinkles on his lover’s face, the poem will mock decay itself. The final couplet sharpens the plea: give my love fame faster than time wastes life, so you prevent his scythe and crooked knife. There’s a tender urgency—the speaker knows only art can preserve beauty. The poem balances gentle scolding with a deep reverence for the beloved and the written word.
Sonnet 100: Where art thou Muse that thou forget'st so long — Summary
Where art thou Muse that thou forget'st so long, To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song, Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? Return forgetful Muse, and straight redeem, In gentle numbers time so idly spent; Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem And gives thy pen both skill and argument. Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey, If Time have any wrinkle graven there; If any, be a satire to decay, And make time's spoils despised every where. Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life, So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.