Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,
To thee I send this written embassage,
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 that 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 graciously with fair aspect,
And puts apparel on my tatter’d 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.
In plain English
You're the master of my heart—your worth has tied me to you completely. I'm sending you this letter to prove my loyalty, not to impress you with clever writing. My devotion is too real for that.
In fact, my limited words might make it look small when it's actually enormous. But I'm counting on you to understand what I mean beneath the surface, without me spelling it out perfectly.
I'm waiting for fate to smile on me and let me prove I'm worthy of your respect. Only then will I be brave enough to tell you how much I love you. Until that moment comes, I'll stay quiet rather than risk you finding me wanting.
