The Comedy of Errors
It is a fault that springeth from your eye.
For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.
Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight.
As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.
Why call it love? Call my sister so.
Thy sister’s sister.
That’s my sister.
It is thyself, mine own self’s better part;
Mine eye’s clear eye, my dear heart’s dearer heart;
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope’s aim;
My sole earth’s heaven, and my heaven’s claim.
Act III.2, ll. 55-64