John Donne(1572–1631)

The Apparition

When by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead,

And that thou thinkst thee free

From all solicitation from me,

Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,

And thee, fained vestal,4 in worse arms shall see;

Then thy sick taper 0 will begin to wink, 0candle /flicker

And he, whose thou art then, being tired before,

Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think

Thou call'st for more,

And in false sleep will from thee shrink,

And then, poor aspen wretch,5 neglected thou

Bathed in a cold quicksilver sweat6 wilt lie,

A verier 0 ghost than I;truer

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 threatnings rest still innocent.