Shall I come, sweet Love, to thee,
When the ev'ning beams are set?
Shall I not excluded be?
Will you find no fained let?
Let me not, for pity, more,
Tell the long hours at your door.

Who can tell what thief or foe,
In the covert of the night,
For his prey, will work my woe,
Or through wicked foul despite:
So may I die unredress'd,
Ere my long love be possess'd.

But to let such dangers pass,
Which a lover's thoughts disdain,
'Tis enough in such a place
To attend love's joys in vain.
Do not mock me in thy bed,
While these cold nights freeze me dead.