http://www.imeem.com/berezovaia/music/4CvQNsHT/alan_rickman_130_sonnet/
SONNET 130:
"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare."
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