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 brows, near Cupid's closed fires, Thus while she sleeps, m oves 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 temperature. Sleep, dainty Love, while I sigh for thy sake: So sleeps my Love, and yet my love doth wake.