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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]