And finding where Loves chiefest treasure lies,
Is like a theefe stole under thy bright eyes.
Thy innocence rich as the gaudy quilt
Wrought by the Persian hand, thy dreames from guilt
Exempted, heaven with sweete repose doth crowne
Each vertue, softer then the Swans fam'd downe.
As exorcists wild spirits mildly lay,
May sleepe thy fever calmely chase away.
Upon Castara's recoverie.
