Sonet 9

Although that words chain'd with affection faile,
As that which makes me burst abasht t'vnfold,
Yet Lines (dumbe Orators) ye may be bold,
Th'inke will not blush, though paper doth looke pale,
Ye of my state the secrets did containe,
That then through clouds of darke inuentions shin'd:
Whil'st I disclos'd, yet not disclos'd my mind,
Obscure to others, but to one ore plaine.
And yet that one did whiles (as th'end may proue)
Not marke, not vnderstand, or else despise,
That (though misterious) language of mine eyes,
Which might haue bene interpreted by loue.
Thus she, what I discouered, yet conceal'd:
Knowes, and not knowes; both hid, and both reueal'd.