A happy man till your lips say I am.
Come, ask you—if the crown were to your liking
Should you be bound to wear it but in darkness?
Well, that’s the plight I’m in with her. She is
The Queen of women, but I hold possession
Of her as Ocean holds its pearls—none dreams
How rich I am, and when I’m dead and done with
There’s not a friend can set it on my tombstone,
And so I lie i’ the grave, beggar to beggar.
Then do not say me nay, but take the ring.