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The Dreame |
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Deare Loue, for nothing lesse then thee |
Would I haue broke this happy dreame |
It was a Theame |
ffor Reason; much too strong for fantasy |
Therefore thou wakd'st mee wisely: yet |
My dreame thou brok'st not, but continewd it |
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffize |
To make dreames Truths, and fables Historyes. |
Enter these armes, and since thou thoughtst it best |
Not to dreame all my dreame, Let's doe the rest |
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As Lightning, or a Tapers light |
Thine eyes, and not thy noyse wak'd mee |
Yet I thought thee |
(ffor thou lov'st truth) an Angel at first sight |
But when I sawe thou sawst my hart |
And knewst my thoughts, beyond an Angels Art, |
When thou knewst what I dreamt, when thou knewst when |
Excesse of ioye would wake mee, and cam'st then; |
I doe confesse it could not chuse but bee |
Profanesse to thinke thee any thing but thee |
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Com̄ing and staying shewd thee thee. |
But rising makes mee doubt that now |
Thou art not thou |
yet Love is weake when feares are strong as hee. |
Tis not all spirit pure and braue |
If mixture it of feare, shame, honor haue |
Perchance, as Torches wch must ready bee |
Men light and put out: so thou dost with mee. |
Thou cam'st to kendle go'st to come, then I |
Will dreame that hope agayne, but else would dye
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[CW: O doe not___] |