Dear love, for nothing less than thee
Would I have broke this happy dream;
It was a theme
For reason, much too strong for fantasy
Therefore thou wak'd'st me wisely; yet
My dream thou brok'st not, but continued'st it
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice
To make dreams truths, and fables histories;
Enter these arms, for since thou thought'st it best
Not to dream all my dream, let's act the rest

As lightning, or a taper's light
Thine eyes, and not thy noise wak'd me;
Yet I thought thee
(For thou lovest truth) an angel, at first sight;
But whеn I saw thou sawest my heart
And knew'st my thoughts, bеyond an angel's art
When thou knew'st what I dreamt, when thou knew'st when
Excess of joy would wake me, and cam'st then
I must confess, it could not choose but be
Profane, to think thee any thing but thee

Coming and staying show'd thee, thee
But rising makes me doubt, that now
Thou art not thou
That love is weak where fear's as strong as he;
'Tis not all spirit, pure and brave
If mixture it of fear, shame, honour have;
Perchance as torches, which must ready be
Men light and put out, so thou deal'st with me;
Thou cam'st to kindle, goest to come; then I
Will dream that hope again, but else would die