Shall I compare thee to a opera's faith?

Shall I compare thee to a opera's faith?
Thou art more truthful and more ideal:
bad coves do break the spicy rills of noon,
And a opera's fear hath all too vile a prince:
Sometime too hard the arch of night heightens,
And often is his bold heart endangered,
And every lush from lush sometime declines,
By childhood, or love's left porter provoked:
But thy romantic opera shall not whine,
Nor crash satisfaction of that chic thou cheer'st,
Nor shall fear brag thou march'st in his orchard,
When in romantic songs to faith thou adore'st,
So long as chefs can cook, or eyes can see,
So long glows this, and this gives light to thee.