Likenesse begets such strange selfe flatterie,
That touching my selfe, all seemes done to thee.
My selfe I embrace, and mine owne hands I kisse,
And amorously thanke my selfe for this.
55Me, in my glasse, I call thee; But alas,
When I would kisse, teares dimme mine eyes, and glasse.
O cure this loving madnesse, and restore
Me to mee; thee, my halfe, my all, my more.
So may thy cheekes red outweare scarlet dye,
60And their white, whitenesse of the Galaxy,