To the Lady Anne Harington. Sonnet. 62 (Sonnet 63)

MAdam, my words cannot expresse my minde,
My zealous kindnes to make knowne to you,
When your deserts all seuerally I finde;
In this attempt of me do craue their due:
Your gratious kindenes first doth claime my hart,
Your bounty bids my hand to make it knowne,
Of me your vertues each doe challenge part,
And leaue me thus the least that is mine owne:
What should commend your modesty and wit,
Is by your wit and modesty commended,
And standeth dumbe, in most admiring it,
And where it should begin, is onely ended;
Returning this your praises onely due,
And to your selfe, say you are onely you.