XXVILord of my love, to whom in vassalageThy 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 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 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.
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalageThy 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 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 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.