Soneta William Shakespeare

As an unperfect actor on ther stage
Who with his fear is put besides his part
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage
Whose stregh’s abundance weakens his own heart
 

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’ercharged with burden of mine own love’s might   

Oh,

let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast
Who plead for love,
and look for recompense
More than that tonque than more hath more expressed
 

Oh,
learn to read what silent love hath writ
To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit