On the taking of an Amethist ring from off Clarastella's finger as she was sleeping

Thou sacred stone whose native heat preservs
Man as he was created, rational,
Infuse thy virtues through my Optick nervs!
Thus while thy temp'rance I behold, I shal
In stupid draughts my health and reason ne'r enthral.

Rubies that most resemble flames, are so
Devoid of heat no fire can warm them, wine
Thus though this cheerful stone resembles too
Scorns yet to stoop to Bacchus reeling Vine
Or let his Oppium prey upon his sprite divine.

Thou more enchanted than was Gyges ring
Keep then my souls eys ope while others lie
Steept, or transform'd in wild Lyoeus sing
Io's to madness, yet do thou let me
Unseen but to my self approach this Deitie.

How't blushes for me at the guilt of this
High sacrilege! Yet though from her I got
This virtue sleeping, she not plundred is.
Fair Stella wears a better Antidote
Both for and 'gainst the falling sickness: wot you wat?