On a Stolen Kiss

Now gentle sleep hath closèd up those eyes, Which waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe, And free access unto that sweet lip lies From whence I long the rosy breath to draw. Methinks no wrong it were if I should steal, From those two melting rubies, one poor kiss. None sees the theft that would the thief reveal, Nor rob I her of aught which she can miss. Nay, should I twenty kisses take away, There would be little sign I had done so. Why then should I this robbery delay? Oh, she may wake, and therewith angry grow. Well, if she do, I'll back restore that one, And twenty hundred thousand more for loan. George Wither