The Dream (Methought last night love in an anger came)

Methought last night Love in an anger came

And brought a rod, so whipt me with the same;

Myrtle the twigs were, merely to imply

Love strikes, but 'tis with gentle cruelty.

Patient I was: Love pitiful grew then

And strok'd the stripes, and I was whole again.

Thus, like a bee, Love gentle still doth bring

Honey to salve where he before did sting.