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Act I, Scene 114


  • 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.