Come Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
the baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,
the poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
the indifferent judge between the high and low;

with shield of proof, shield me from out the prease
of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw;
O make in me those civil wars to cease;
I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.

Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
a chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,
a rosy garland and a weary head:
and if these things, as being thine by right,

move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,
livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.