Or if he does not sleep, he feigns too long,
Twice she hath reach'd the ending of her song.
LXXIV.
Therefore 'tis time she tells him to uncover
Those radiant jesters, and disperse her fears,
Whereby her April face is shaded over,
Like rainy clouds just ripe for showering tears;
Nay, if he will not wake, so poor she gets,
Herself must open those lock'd-up cabinets.
LXXV.