Sleepe, angry beauty, sleep, and feare not me.
For who a sleeping Lyon dares prouoke?
It shall suffice me here to sit and see
Those lips shut vp that neuer kindely spoke.
    What sight can more content a louer's minde
    Then beauty seeming harmlesse, if not kinde?

My words haue charm'd her, for secure shee sleepes ;
Though guilty much of wrong done to my loue ;
And in her slumber, see, shee close-ey'd weepes :
Dreames often more then waking passions moue.
    Pleade, sleepe, my cause, and make her soft like thee,
That shee in peace may wake and pitty mee.