A Stolen Kiss
By George Wither
Now gentle sleep hath closed up those eyes
Which, waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe;
And free access unto thy sweet lip lies,
From whence I long the rosy breath to draw.
Methinks not wrong it were, if I should steal
From those two melting rubies one poor kiss;
None sees the theft that would the theft reveal,
Nor rob I her of aught that she can miss;
Nay should I twenty kisses take away,
There be little sign I would do so;
Why then should I this robbery delay?
O, she may wake, and therewith angry grow!
Well, if she do, I’ll back restore that one,
And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.