Act I, Scene 76

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• Shakespeare. Why is my verse so barren of new pride,
  So far from variation or quick change?
  Why with the time do I not glance aside
  To new-found methods and to compounds strange?
  Why write I still all one, ever the same, 1055
  And keep invention in a noted weed,
  That every word doth almost tell my name,
  Showing their birth and where they did proceed?
  O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,
  And you and love are still my argument; 1060
  So all my best is dressing old words new,
  Spending again what is already spent:
  For as the sun is daily new and old,
  So is my love still telling what is told.