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| As an unperfect actor on the stage, | 1 |
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| Who with his fear is put beside his part, |
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| Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, |
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| Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart; |
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| So I, for fear of trust, forget to say | 5 |
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| The perfect ceremony of love's rite, |
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| And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, |
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| O'ercharg'd with burthen of mine own love's might. |
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| O! let my looks be then the eloquence |
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| And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, | 10 |
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| Who plead for love, and look for recompense, |
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| More than that tongue that more hath more express'd. |
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 O! learn to read what silent love hath writ: |
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| To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. |
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