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John Donne - The Apparition
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When by thy scorne, O murdresse, I am dead,				
	    And that thou thinkst thee free					
	From all solicitation from mee,							
	Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,					
	And thee, fain`d vestall, in worse armes shall see;		
	Then thy sicke taper will begin to winke, 				
	And he,whose thou art then, being tyr`d before,			
	Will, if thou stirre, or pinch to wake him, thinke		
	    Thou call`st for more,							
	And in false sleepe will from thee shrinke, 			
	And then poore Aspen wretch, neglected thou				
	Bath`d in a cold quicksilver swear wilt lye				
	    A veryer ghost than I;							
	What I will say, I will not tell thee now,				
	Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent,	
	I`had rather thou shouldst painfully repent,			
	Than by my threatenings rest still innocent.
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