Lord of my loue, to whome in vassalage
Thy merrit hath my dutie strongly knit,
To thee I send this written ambassage
To witnesse duty, not to shew my wit;
Duty so great, which wit so poore as mine
May make seeme bare, in wanting words to shew it,
But that I hope some good conceipt of thine
In thy soules thought (all naked) will bestow it:
Til whatsoeuer star that guides my mouing,
Points on me gratiously with faire aspect,
And puts apparrell on my tottered louing,
Then may I dare to boast how I doe loue thee,
Til then, not show my head where thou maist proue me.
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 tottered 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.