Lord of my love, to whom in vassalageThy merit hath my duty strongly knit;To thee I send this written embassageTo witness duty, not to show my wit.
Duty so great, which wit so poor as mineMay make seem bare, in wanting words to show it;But that I hope some good conceit of thineIn 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.
