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Lord of my loue,to whome in vaſſalage
Thy merrit hath my dutie ſtrongly knit;
To thee I ſend this written ambaſſage
To witneſſe duty, not to ſhew my wit.
Duty ſo great, wich wit ſo poore as mine
May make ſeeme bare,in wanting words to ſhew it;
But that I hope ſome good conceipt fo thine
In thy foules thought (all naked) will beſtow it:
Til whatſoeuer ſtar that guides my mouing,
Points on me gratiouſly with faire aſpect,
And puts apparrell on my tottered louing,
To ſhow me worthy of their ſweet reſpect,
   Then mai I dare to boaſt how I doe loue thee,
   Til then,not ſhow my head where thou maiſt proue me

Zie ook het online-facsimile van de oorspronkelijke uitgave (site helaas niet altijd bereikbaar).