Chastelard monologue (Act 1) — Chastelard, a Tragedy

I know not: it may be If I had set mine eyes to find that out, I should not know it. She hath fair eyes: may be I love her for sweet eyes or brows or hair, For the smooth temples, where God touching her Made blue with sweeter veins the flower-sweet white Or for the tender turning of her wrist, Or marriage of the eyelid with the cheek; I cannot tell; or flush of lifting throat, I know not if the color get a name This side of heaven-no man knows; or her mouth, A flower's lip with a snake's lip, stinging sweet, And sweet to sting with: face that one would see And then fall blind and die with sight of it Held fast between the eyelids-oh, all these And all her body and the soul to that, The speech and shape and hand and foot and heart That I would die of-yea, her name that turns My face to fire being written-I know no whit How much I love them.