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XXVI.
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy 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 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 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.
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