Sleep angry beauty, sleep and fear not me.
For who a sleeping lion dares provoke?
It shall suffice me here to sit and see
Those lips shut up that never kindly spoke.
What sight can more content a lover's mind
Than beauty seeming harmless, if not kind?
My words have charm'd her, for secure she sleeps,
Though guilty much of wrong done to my love;
And in her slumber, see, she, close-ey'd, weeps:
Dreams often more than waking passions move.
Plead, sleep, my cause, and make her soft like thee:
That she in peace may wake and pity me.
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