As an
unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with
his fear is put beside his part,
Or some
fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's
abundance weakens his own heart;
So I for
fear of trust, forget to say,
The
perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in
mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged
with burthen of mine own love's might:
O let my
looks be then the eloquence,
And dumb
presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead
for love, and look for recompense,
More than
that tongue that more hath more expressed.
O learn to
read what silent love hath writ,
To hear
with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
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