Wittes Pilgrimage, Sonnet 63

MY Tongue, is turn'd to Eyes, mine Eyes, to Eares
In the dread presence of my deeerest Loue:
Who, while shee speakes, my very seeing heares;
Hir Tongue, and Bodie do so sprightly moue!
My Tongue, & Eares are deaff, & dumbe the whiles,
Orewhelm'd with Loue, and Ioy, and Hope in each;
Only my Lookes applaude hir Words with smiles,
As if they onely heard, and saw Their reache.
And sith with hir I cannot interpleade
But merely by the mane of speaking-Lookes,
Sith Lookes alone must stand me then in steade
My Lookes shalbe Loue, and Witts record Bookes,
Wherein shee still may reade what I conceaue
Of her sweete words, and what replies I giue.