Classic Poem

Have I my heav'nly jewell,
Teaching Sleepe most faire to be!
Now will I teach her that she
When she wakes, is too-too cruell

Since sweet Sleep her eyes hath charmèd,
The two only darts of Love,
Now will I, with that Boy, prove,
Some play, while he is disarmèd.

Her tongue, waking, still refuseth,
Giving frankly niggard no:
Now will I attept to know
What no her tongue, sleeping, useth.

See the hand that, waking gardeth,
Sleeping, grants a free resort:
Now will i invade the fort,
Cowards Love with losse rewardeth.

But, O foole, thinke of the danger
Of her just and high disaine;
Now will I, alas, refraine; Love fears nothing else but anger

Yet those lips, so swetly swelling,
Do invite a stealing kisse.
Now will I but venture this;
Who will reade, must first learne spelling.

Oh, sweet kisse! but ah, she's waking;
Lowring beautie chastens me:
Now will I for feare hence flee;
Foole, more foole, for not more taking.