Think'st thou then by thy feigning

Sleep, with a proud disdaining,

Or with thy crafty closing

Thy cruel eyes reposing,

To drive me from my sight,

When sleep yields more delight,

Such harmless beauty gracing.

And while sleep feigned is,

May not I steal a kiss,

Thy quiet arms embracing.



O that my sleep dissembled,

Were to a trance resembled,

Thy cruel eyes deceiving,

Of lively sense bereaving:

Then should my love requite

Thy love's unkind despite,

While fury triumph'd boldly

In beauty sweet disgrace:

And Liv'd in sweet embrace

Of her that lov'd so coldly.



Should then my love aspiring,

Forbidden joys desiring,

So far exceed the duty

That virtue owes to beauty?

No Love seek no thy bliss,

Beyond a simple kiss:

For such deceits are harmless,

Yet kiss a thousand-fold.

For kisses may be bold

When lovely sleep in armless