| OR whether doth my mind, being crown’d with you | |
| Drink up the monarch’s plague, this flattery? | |
| Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true, | |
| And that your love taught it this alchymy, | |
| To make of monsters and things indigest | 5 |
| Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, | |
| Creating every bad a perfect best, | |
| 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: | 10 |
| Mine eye well knows what with his gust is ’greeing, | |
| And to his palate doth prepare the cup: | |
| If it be poison’d, ’tis the lesser sin | |
| That mine eye loves it and doth first begin. |