AS an unperfect actor
on the stage |
|
Who with his fear is put beside his part, |
|
Or some fierce thing replete with too much
rage, |
|
Whose strengths abundance weakens his
own heart; |
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So I, for fear of trust, forget to say |
5 |
The perfect ceremony of loves rite, |
|
And in mine own loves strength seem
to decay, |
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Oerchargd with burden of mine
own loves might. |
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O! let my books be then the eloquence |
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And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, |
10 |
Who plead for love, and look for recompense, |
|
More than that tongue that more hath more
expressd. |
|
O! learn to read what silent
love hath writ: |
|
To hear with eyes belongs to
loves fine wit. |
|