Page 2021 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

75 IT

So are you to my thoughts as food to life,

Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As ’twixt a miser and his wealth is found:
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon

Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then bettered that the world may see my pleasure;
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,

And by and by clean starvèd for a look:
Possessing or pursuing no delight,
Save what is had or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,

Or gluttoning on all, or all away.