A dream

I laid me down upon a pillow soft,

And dream'd I clypt and kissed my mistress oft:

She cried, Fie fie, away, you are too bold.

I pray'd her be content, though she were cold;

My veins did burn with flames of hot desire,

And must not leave till she had quench'd my fire.

Well, since (said she) I may not from you fly,

Do what you please, I give you liberty.

With that I wak'd, but found I was deceiv'd;

For which I storm'd like one of sense bereav'd.