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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.
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.
A Valediction of weeping.
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,

[CW: Fruits]