by Ben Jonson
OH doe not wanton with those eyes,
Lest I be sick with seeing ;
Nor cast them downe, but let them rise,
Lest shame destroy their being :
O, be not angry with those fires,
For then their threats will kill me ;
Nor looke too kind on my desires,
For then my hopes will spill me ;
O, doe not steepe them in thy Teares,
For so will sorrow slay me ;
Nor spread them as distract with feares,
Mine owne enough betray me.
The Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse.
H. J. C. Grierson and G. Bullough, eds.
Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1934. 169.
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