These Blessed Candles Of The Night.

Light, Seeking Light, Doth Light Of Light Beguile

Is This A Vision? Is This A Dream? Do I Sleep?

Base Men Being In Love Have Then A Nobility In Their Natures More Than Is Native To Them.

So Sweet Was Ne'er So Fatal. I Must Weep. But They Are Creul Tears. This Sorrow's Heavenly; It Strikes Where It Doth Love.

If We Shadows Have Offended, Think But This, And All Is Mended, That You Have But Slumber'd Here While These Visions Did Appear.