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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Shakespeare's Sonnets:
