Love’s Silence

Because I breathe not love to everie one, Nor do not use set colors for to weare, Nor nourish special locks of vowèd haire, Nor give each speech a full point of a groane,— The courtlie nymphs, acquainted with the moane Of them who on their lips Love’s standard beare, “What! he?” say they of me. “Now I dare sweare He cannot love: No, no! let him alone.” And think so still,—if Stella know my minde. Profess, indeed, I do not Cupid’s art; But you, faire maids, at length this true shall finde,— That his right badge is but worne in the hearte. Dumb swans, not chattering pies, do lovers prove: They love indeed who quake to say they love.

Collection: 
1574
Sub Title: 
II. Love’s Nature

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