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Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I'll take them and there lie,
And in that glorious supposition think
He gains by death that hath such means to die:
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink!
LUCIANA
What, are you mad, that you do reason so?
ANTIPHOLUS
OF SYRACUSE
Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know.
LUCIANA
It is a fault that springeth from your eye.
ANTIPHOLUS
OF SYRACUSE
For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.
LUCIANA
Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight.
ANTIPHOLUS
OF SYRACUSE
As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.
LUCIANA
Why call you me love? call my sister so.
ANTIPHOLUS
OF SYRACUSE
Thy sister's sister.
LUCIANA
That's my sister.
ANTIPHOLUS
OF SYRACUSE
No;
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.
LUCIANA
All this my sister is, or else should be.
ANTIPHOLUS
OF SYRACUSE
Call thyself sister, sweet, for I am thee.
Thee will I love and with thee lead my life:
Thou hast no husband yet nor I no wife.
Give me thy hand.
LUCIANA
O, soft, air! hold you still:
I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will.
Exit
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse
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