Thy beams, so reverend and strong, 
          Why shouldst thou think? 
 I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink, 
 But that I would not lose her sight so long; 
          If her eyes have not blinded thine, 
          Look, and tomorrow late tell me 
      Whether both th’ Indias of spice and mine,    
      Be where thou lefst them, or lie here with me. 
 Ask for those kings whom thou saw’st yesterday, 
 And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay. 
  
          She’s all states, and all princes, I, 
          Nothing else is. 
 Princes do but play us; compared to this, 
 All honor’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.