Page 2432 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 2432
So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not
To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, [25]
As thy eye-beams when their fresh rays have smote
The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows.
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep
As doth thy face, through tears of mine, give light. [30]
Thou shinest in every tear that I do weep;
No drop but as a coach doth carry thee.
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my grief will show. [35]
But do not love thyself; then thou will keep
My tears for glasses and still make me weep.
O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel,
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell!
How shall she know my griefs? I’ll drop the paper. [40]
Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?
He stands aside.
Enter Longaville with several papers.
What, Longaville, and reading! Listen, ear!
BEROWNE
Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!
LONGAVILLE
Ay me, I am forsworn!
BEROWNE
Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing [45] papers.
KING
In love, I hope - sweet fellowship in shame!
BEROWNE
One drunkard loves another of the name.
LONGAVILLE
Am I the first that have been perjured so?
