1 Is it thy will thy image should keep open
2 My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
3 Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
4 While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
5 Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee
6 So far from home into my deeds to pry,
7 To find out shames and idle hours in me,
8 The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?
9 O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great:
10 It is my love that keeps mine eye awake;
11 Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
12 To play the watchman ever for thy sake:
13 For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
14 From me far off, with others all too near.