Page 1972 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

26 IT

Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage

Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,
To thee 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 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 tattered 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.