Thy beams, so reverend and strong
           Why shouldst thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long:
           If her eyes have not blinded thine,
           Look, and tomorrow late, tell me
      Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
      Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear: "All here in one bed lay."

           She is all states, and all princes I,
           Nothing else is.
Princes do but play us; compar'd to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
           Thou, sun, art half as happy 's we,
      In that the world's contracted thus;
      Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
      To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere.