Sleep, wayward thoughts, and rest you with my love:
    Let not my Love be with my love diseas’d.
Touch not, proud hands, lest you her anger move,
    But pine you with my longings long displeas’d.
Thus, while she sleeps, I sorrow for her sake:
So sleeps my Love, and yet my love doth wake.

But, O the fury of my restless fear,
    The hidden anguish of my flesh desires,
The glories and the beauties that appear,
    Between her browes near Cupids closed fires.
Thus, while she sleeps, moves sighing for her sake:
So sleeps my Love, and yet my love doth wake.

My love doth rage, and yet my Love doth rest:
    Fear in my love, and yet my Love secure:
Peace in my Love, and yet my love oppress’d:
    Impatient, yet of perfect temp’rature.
Sleep, dainty Love, while I sigh for thy sake: