O, how I
faint when I of you do write,
Knowing a
better spirit doth use your name,
And in
the praise thereof spends all his might,
To make
me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame!
But since
your worth, wide as the ocean is,
The
humble as the proudest sail doth bear,
My saucy
bark inferior far to his
On your
broad main doth wilfully appear.
Your
shallowest help will hold me up afloat,
Whilst he
upon your soundless deep doth ride;
Or being
wreck'd, I am a worthless boat,
He of
tall building and of goodly pride:
Then if
he thrive and I be cast away,
The worst
was this; my love was my decay.
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