Page 2059 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

113 IT

Since I left you mine eye is in my mind,

And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out:
For it no form delivers to the heart

Of bird, of flower, or shape which it doth latch
Of his quick object hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch:
For if it see the rud’st or gentlest sight,

The most sweet favour or deformedest creature,
The mountain or the sea, the day or night,
The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature.
Incapable of more, replete with you,

My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.