Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit;
To tee I send this written ambassage
To witness duty, not to show my wit.
Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine
May make seem bare, in wanting wards 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,
Point on my graciously with fair aspect,
And puts apparel on my tottered loving,
To show my 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.