Act I, Scene 114

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• Shakespeare. Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you,
  Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery? 1585
  Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true,
  And that your love taught it this alchemy,
  To make of monsters and things indigest
  Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble,
  Creating every bad a perfect best, 1590
  As fast as objects to his beams assemble?
  O,'tis the first; 'tis flattery in my seeing,
  And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:
  Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,
  And to his palate doth prepare the cup: 1595
  If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin
  That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.