LORD of my love, to
whom in vassalage |
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Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, |
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To thee I send this written ambassage, |
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To witness duty, not to show my wit: |
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Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine |
5 |
May make seem bare, in wanting words to show
it, |
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But that I hope some good conceit of thine |
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In thy souls thought, all naked, will
bestow it; |
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Till whatsoever star that guides my moving |
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Points on me graciously with fair aspect, |
10 |
And puts apparel on my tatterd loving, |
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To show me worthy of thy sweet respect: |
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Then may I dare to boast how
I do love thee; |
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Till then not show my head where
thou mayst prove me. |
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