Sonnet XIV: He Desires Leave to Write of His Love

Must my devoted heart desist to love her?
No: love I may, but I may not confess it.
What harder thing than love, and yet depress it?
Love most concealed, doth most itself discover.
Had I no pen to show that I approve her;
Were I tongue-tied, that I might not address it,
In plaints and prayers unfeigned to express it,
Yet could I not my deep affection cover.
Had I no pen, my very tears would shew it,
Which write my true affection in my face.
Were I tongue-tied, my sighs would make her know it,
Which witness that I grieve at my disgrace.
Since then, though silent, I my love discover,
Oh let my pen have leave to say, I love her!