Sonnet 103. Alack what poverty my muse brings forth

Alack what poverty my muse brings forth

That having such a scope to show her pride

The argument all bare is of more worth

Than when it hath my added praise beside.

O blame me not if I no more can write!

Look in your glass and there appears a face

That over-goes my blunt invention quite

Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.