What hast thou done to make thee look so fair?
Pre. Am I not always fair?
Vic. Aye, and so fair,
That I am jealous of all eyes that see thee,
And wish that they were blind.
Pre. I heed them not;
When thou art present, I see none but thee!
Vic. There’s nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes
Something from thee, that makes it beautiful.
Pre. And yet thou leav’st me for those dusty books.