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Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage

Thy merit hath my duty stronly knit,

To the 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 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 gaciously with fair aspect,

And puts apparel on my tottered 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.