Sonnet 24: Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd

1Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd,

2Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;

3My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,

4And perspective it is best painter's art.

5For through the painter must you see his skill,

6To find where your true image pictur'd lies,

7Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,

8That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.

9Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:

10Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me

11Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun

12Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;

13 Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art,

14 They draw but what they see, know not the heart.