Sleep, sleep, my soul, let sorrow close thine eyes.
Nurse fantasy records her lullabies.
Fold up thine arms and into sighs expire.
Deep sighs, the drowsy pages of desire.
My restless heart whom troublous thoughts molest Shall cradle thee;
thy cabin is my breast:
Where neither sun of joy nor star of light
Can break the mist of an affected night.
Here sadness rules;
and here thy drooping head
Instead of down shall have a frozen bed;
Love rocks thy panting cradle;
and to bring thy thoughts asleep, melancholy shall sing.
And when thou wakest to appease thy cries,
Sad grief with tears distilling from mine eyes 
shall feed thy passion til that bitter food
Do surfeit it and in my death conclude.