And I believe his mouth, and eyes, and cheeks,
And nose, and all his face, are made of gold.
Mat. Heaven bless us, madam, what a face you make him!
If it be yellow, he must have the jaundice,
And that's a bad disease.
Em. Why then do lovers give a thing so bad
As gold to women, whom so well they love?
Mat. Because that bad thing, gold, buys all good things.
Em. Yet I must know him better: Of all colours,
Tell me which is the purest, and the softest.