John Fletcher


COME, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving
        Lock me in delight awhile;
        Let some pleasing dreams beguile
        All my fancies; that from thence
        I may feel an influence
All my powers of care bereaving!

Though but a shadow, but a sliding,
        Let me know some little joy!
        We that suffer long annoy
        Are contented with a thought
        Through an idle fancy wrought:
O let my joys have some abiding!