Wouldst thou my friendly offices repay,Fate throws a fair occasion in thy way;Unlock the gate, the morning will not stay.Unlock the gate; and as thou'rt kind to me,So may thy gentle lady prove to thee;May she to loose thy hateful chains incline,And stead of water, be thy portion wine.But what avail my soothing words? Thy earIs deaf, inhuman! to my moving pray'r.Your gates with posts of pond'rous oak are barr'd,As if your house was for a siege prepar'd;Why all this fence? what foe have you to fear?And why in peace do you provide for war?Thus rudely if your lady's friends you treat,What usage must her foes expect to meet?Unlock the gate,-the morning will not stay;Unlock the gate, and give my love its way.Or is it sloth or is it sleep that brings,