Page:Elizabethan sonnet-cycles.djvu/99



sleep! Sweet ease in restless misery!

The captive's liberty, and his freedom's song!

Balm of the bruisèd heart! Man's chief felicity!

Brother of quiet death, when life is too too long!

A comedy it is, and now an history;

What is not sleep unto the feeble mind!

It easeth him that toils and him that's sorry;

It makes the deaf to hear, to see the blind;

Ungentle sleep, thou helpest all but me!

For when I sleep my soul is vexèd most.

It is Fidessa that doth master thee;

If she approach, alas, thy power is lost!

But here she is! See how he runs amain!

I fear at night he will not come again.