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Poetry
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Have I caught my heav'nly jewel,
Teaching sleep most fair to be?
Now will I teach her that she,
When she wakes, is too, too cruel.
Since sweet sleep her eyes hath charm'd,
The two only darts of Love:
Now will I with that boy prove
Some play, whle he is disarm'd.
Her tongue waking still refuseth,
Giving frankly niggard "No":
Now will I attempt to know
What "No" her tongue sleeping useth.
See, the hand which waking guardeth,
Sleeping, grants a free resort:
Now will I invade the fort;
Cowards Love with loss rewardeth.
But, oh, fool, think of the danger
Of her just and high disdain:
Now will I alas refreain,
Love fears nothing else but anger.
Yet those lips so sweetly swelling
Do invite a stealing kiss:
Now will I but venture this,
Who will read must first learn spelling.
Oh sweet kiss. But ah, she is waking.
Lowering beauty chastens me:
Now will I away hence flee.
Fool! More fool for no more taking.
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