Astrophel and Stella: 39

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Come sleepe, O sleepe, the certaine knot of peace,The baiting place of wit, the balme of woe,The poore mans wealth, the prisoners release,Th'indifferent Iudge betweene the high and low;With shield of proofe shield me from out the preaseOf those fierce darts, dispaire at me doth throw,O make me in those civill warres to cease;I will good tribute pay if thou do so.Take thou of me smooth pillowes, sweetest bed,A chamber deafe to noise, and blind to light:A rosie garland, and a wearie hed:And if these things, as being thine by right,Moue not thy heauy grace, thou shalt in meLiuelier then else-where Stellas image see.

© Sir Philip Sidney