The Dreame

Or Scorne, or pittie on me take,
I must the true Relation make,
I am undone to Night;
Love in a subtile Dreame disguis’d,
Hath both my heart and me surpriz’d,
Whom never yet he durst attempt t' awake;
Nor will he tell me for whose sake
He did me the Delight,
Or Spight,
But leaves me to inquire,
In all my wild desire
Of sleepe againe; who was his Aid,
And sleepe so guiltie and afraid,
As since he dares not come within my sight.