Sonnet Cxiv

William Shakespeare

     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 alchemy,
     To make of monsters and things indigest
     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:
     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.

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