| Be like for want of rain, which I could well beteem them from the tempest of my eyes. | |
| So excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr so loving to my mother that he might not beteem the winds of heaven visit her face too roughly. | |
| So loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! | |
| So loving to my mother that he might not beteem the winds of heaven... visit her face too roughly. | |
| Be like for want of rain, which I could well beteem them from the tempest of my eyes. | |
| So excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr so loving to my mother that he might not beteem the winds of heaven visit her face too roughly. | |
| So loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! | |
| So loving to my mother that he might not beteem the winds of heaven... visit her face too roughly. | |
