O mi mente, contigo coronada,
Bebe lisonjas, perdición de reyes,
O bien mis ojos ven visiones ciertas
Y tu amor le enseñó esta alquimia
De fabricar con monstruos indigestos
Querubines que imitan tu dulzura,
Creando algo perfecto con lo espurio
Al reunirse objetos en sus rayos:
Ay, son lisonjas vanas, y mi mente
Como un monarca incauto apura el trago,
Pues bien saben mis ojos qué prefiere
Y a su gusto preparan el brebaje.
Si hay veneno, no es delito grave,
Pues mis ojos lo probarán primero.

Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you,
Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery?
Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true,
And that your love taught it this alchemy,
To make of monsters and things indigest
Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble,
Creating every bad a perfect best,
As fast as objects to his beams assemble?
O! 'tis the first, 'tis flattery in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup:
If it be poisoned, 'tis the lesser sin
That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.