Sonnet 38

COme Sleepe, ô Sleepe, the certaine knot of peace,
The bathing place of wits, the balme of woe,
The poore mans wealth, the prysoners release,
The indifferent Iudge betweene the hie and lowe,
With shielde of proofe, shielde me from out the presse
Of these fierce dartes, Dispayre at me doth throw;
O make in me those ciuill warres to cease:
I will good trybute pay if thou doe soe.
Take thou of me smooth pillowes, sweetest bed,
A chamber deafe of noyse, and blinde of light,
A rosie garland, and a wearie head.
And if these things (as being thine in right)
Mooue not thy heauie grace, thou shalt in mee
(Liuelier then els) rare Stellas Image see.