|
| But when I saw thou sawst my heart, |
| And knew'st my thoughts, beyond an Angels art, |
| When thou knew'st what I dreamt, then thou knew'st when |
| Excess of joy would wake me, and cam'st then, |
| I must confess, it could not chuse but be |
| Prophane, to think thee any thing but thee. |
|
| Coming and staying shew'd thee, thee, |
| But rising makes me doubt, that now, |
| Thou art not thou. |
| That love is weak, where fears are strong as he; |
| 'Tis not all spirit, pure, and brave, |
| If mixture it of Fear, Shame, Honor have. |
| Perchance as torches which must ready be, |
| Men light and put out, so thou deal'st with me, |
| Thou com'st to kindle, goest to come: Then I |
| Will dream that hope again, but else would die. |
|
| A Valediction of Weeping. |
|
| Let me pour forth |
| My tears before thy face, whil'st I stay here, |
| For thy face coines them, and thy stampe they bear; |
| And by this Mintage they are something worth, |
| For thus they bee |
| Pregnant of thee, |
| Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more, |
| When a tear falls, that thou fall'st which it bore, |
| So thou and I are nothing then, when on a divers shore. |
|
| On a round ball |
| A workman, that hath copies by, can lay
|
[CW: An] |