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. |