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 durance 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.