And gives the crutch the cradle’s infancy:
O, ’tis the sun that maketh all things shine.
King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.
[244] Biron. Is ebony like her? O wood divine!
245 A wife of such wood were felicity.
O, who can give an oath? where is a book?
That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack,
If that she learn not of her eye to look:
No face is fair that is not full so black.
[250] King. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell,