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As lightning, or a Tapers light, |
Thine eyes, and not thy noyse wak'd me; |
Yet I thought thee |
(For thou lov'st truth) an Angell, at first sight, |
But when I saw thou sawest my heart, |
And knew'st my thoughts, beyond an Angels art, |
Whē thou knew'st what I dreamt, whē thou knew'st when |
Excesse of joy would wake me, & cam'st then |
I must confesse, it could not chuse but be |
Prophane, to thinke thee any thing but thee. |
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Comming, and staying shew'd thee, thee, |
But rising makes me doubt, that now, |
Thou art not thou. |
That love is weake, where feare's as strong as hee; |
'Tis not all spirit, pure, and brave, |
If mixture it of Feare, Shame, Honor have; |
Perchance as torches which must ready bee, |
Men light and put out, so thou deal'st with me, |
Thou cam'st to kindle, goest to come; Then I |
Will dreame that hope againe, but else would die. |
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A Valediction of weeping. |
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Let me powre forth |
My teares before thy face, whil'st I stay here, |
For thy face coynes them, & thy stampe they beare; |
And by this Mintage they are something worth, |
For thus they bee |
Pregnant of thee,
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[CW: Fruits] |