unquiet thoughts, your civil slaughter stint
and wrap your wrongs within a pensive heart.
and you my tongue that makes my mouth a mint,
and stamps my thoughts to coin them words by art.
but what can stay my thoughts they may not start
or put my tongue in dura-ance for to die.
when as these the keys of mouth and heart,
open the lock where all my love doth lie.
how shall i then gaze on my mistress eyes?
my thought must have some vent: else my heart will break.
my tongue would rust as in my mouth it lies.
if eyes and thoughts were free and that not speak.