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