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

Come heavy the image of true death;
And close up these my weeping eyes:
Whose spring of tears doth my vitall breath,
And tears my with sorrows sigh swoln cries:
Come and my tired thoughts worn soul,
That dies, till thou on me be stoule.

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