Lord of my
love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit
hath my duty strongly knit;
To thee I
send this written embassage
To witness
duty, not to show my wit.
Duty so
great, which wit so poor as mine
May make
seem bare, in wanting words to show it;
But that I
hope some good conceit of thine
In thy
soul's thought (all naked) will bestow it:
Till
whatsoever star that guides my moving,
Points on
me graciously with fair aspect,
And puts
apparel on my tattered loving,
To show me
worthy of thy sweet respect,
Then may I
dare to boast how I do love thee,
Till then,
not show my head where thou mayst prove me.
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