Luyện nghe bài hát Come, heavy sleep - First Booke of Songes, 1597, no20

Come heavy sleepe the image of true
And up these my weary weeping eyes:
Whose of tears doth stop my vitall breath,
And tears my hart with sorrows swoln cries:
and posses my tired thoughts worn soul,
That living dies, till on me be stoule.

shadow of my end, and shape of rest,
Allied to death, child to his blackfac'd
Come thou and charme these in my breast,
Whose waking doe my mind affright.
O sweet sleepe; come, or I die for ever:
Come ere my last sleepe comes, or never.