04 - Alan Rickman - My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun

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.