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Imagine her as one in dead of night (450)

From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking, (451)

That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly sprite, (452)

Whose grim aspect sets every joint a-shaking: (453)

What terror 'tis! but she, in worser taking,
From sleep disturbed, heedfully doth view (455)

The sight which makes supposed terror true.

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