O night, cleare night, O dark and gloomie day!
O wofull waking! O soule-pleasing sleepe!
O sweet conceits which in my braines did creepe,
Yet sowre conceits which went so soone away!
A sleepe I had more than poore words can say,
For clos'd in armes, mee thought, I did thee keepe;
A sorie wretch plung'd in misfortunes deepe
Am I not wak'd, when light doth lies bewray?
O that that night had euer still bene blacke!
O that that day had neuer yet begunne!
And you, mine eyes, would yee no time saw sunne!
To haue your sunne in such a zodiacke:
Loe! what is good of life is but a dreame,
When sorrow is a neuer-ebbing streame.