Ann Hathaway

But were it to my fancy given
To rate her charms, I ’d call them heaven;
For though a mortal made of clay,
Angels must love Ann Hathaway;
She hath a way so to control,
To rapture the imprisoned soul,
And sweetest heaven on earth display,
That to be heaven Ann hath a way;
She hath a way,
Ann Hathaway,–
To be heaven’s self Ann hath a way.

(c) Shakespeare