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Sonnet XXVI
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| Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage | 1
| Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, | 2
| To thee I send this written embassage, | 3
| To witness duty, not to show my wit: | 4
| Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine | 5
| May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it, | 6
| But that I hope some good conceit of thine | 7
| In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it; | 8
| Till whatsoever star that guides my moving | 9
| Points on me graciously with fair aspect | 10
| And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving, | 11
| To show me worthy of thy sweet respect: | 12
| Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee; | 13
| Till then not show my head where thou mayst prove me. | 14
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