MY mourning Mistress's garments, black doth bear;
And I in black, like her, attirèd am!
Yet diverse is the cause why black we wear;
She for another's death doth shew the same.
I for another reason bear this suit;
Only to show by this, my outward weed,
Mine inward grief (although my tongue be mute)
Of tender heart; which deadly sighs doth bleed.
Thrice happy I, if, as in habit [_dress_] we
Are both in one, our minds both one might be.