A fancie as an answere to that dreame.

SOme feele by dreams more ioye,
then any other waie,
And those doe steale suche sport by nights,
thei care not for the daie:
The sicke as well as sounde,
hath sutche consaits in breste,
By slombryng slepes, and sweuons sweete,
thei dreame thei haue some reste.
The thirstie thinks by dreame, he drinks and cool's his heate,
But that I call a cow deuise, to quenche a feuer greate:
So loue that liu's with dreams, on fancies foode maie feede,
Yet want as mutche a slepe or wake, as thei that starue for neede.
If pleasure we conceiue, through sight the same doeth growe,
Then wakyng is the cheefest freend, and slepe a mortall foe:
The eye must first be fixt, ere senses feelyng finde,
And so in slepe some watchyng sprite, awakes the drousie minde.
Though body seems to slepe, and takes his ease in bedde,
The vitall vaines are woorkyng still, and soule is neuer dedde:
Thus proue I that we wake, when slepe beclipps the ghoste,
And wakyng witts and stirryng blood, doeth comfort nature moste.
A dreame more life doeth showe, then death or lompishe slepe,
And by the motion of suche dreams, our soule and life we kepe:
So graunt I that our sleepes, a wakyng Nature haue,
For slepe it self is noughe but death, as bedde presents the graue.
Though beast is praisde for slepe, yet man hath better moode,
To wake and seeke through breathyng brest, to liue by angels foode:
Then let leude fancie slepe, with beast and if you please,
It is the quicke and wakyng muse, that moste my sence doeth ease.