- 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 tatter’d 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.