You are most fair—Ay, verily, a blend
Of lily and of rose that in their plot
Make variant weft of hues, by pranksome winds
In such a juggling mingle set to swaying
There’s not an eye can sift the shades apart.
Now you are red, now pale—and lo, you’re neither,
You’re both at once!
Lesbia.
What know you, then, of me?
That was your dream; I look far otherwise—