| Think’st thou then by thy feigning
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| Sleep, with a proud disdaining
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| Or with thy crafty closing
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| Thy cruel eyes reposing
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| To drive me from my sight
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| When sleep yields more delight
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| Such harmless beauty gracing
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| And while sleep feigned is
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| May not I steal a kiss
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| Thy quiet arms embracing
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| O that my sleep dissembled
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| Were to a trance resembled
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| Thy cruel eyes deceiving
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| Of lively sense bereaving:
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| Then should my love requite
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| Thy love’s unkind despite
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| While fury triumph’d boldly
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| In beauty sweet disgrace:
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| And Liv’d in sweet embrace
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| Of her that lov’d so coldly
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| Should then my love aspiring
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| Forbidden joys desiring
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| So far exceed the duty
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| That virtue owes to beauty?
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| No Love seek no thy bliss
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| Beyond a simple kiss:
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| For such deceits are harmless
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| Yet kiss a thousand-fold
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| For kisses may be bold
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| When lovely sleep in armless |