Come, heavy Sleep, the image of true Death
And close up these my weary weeping eyes
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath
And tears my heart with Sorrow's sigh-swoll’n cries
Come and possess my tired through-worn soul
That living dies till thou on me be stole

Come, shape of rest, and shadow of my end
Allied to Death, child to his joyless black-fac'd Night
Come thou and charm these rebels in my breast
Whose waking fancies doth my mind affright
O come, sweet Sleep, or I die forever;
Come ere my last sleep comes, or come thou never