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

Come heavy sleepe the image of true
And close up these my weary eyes:
Whose spring of tears doth my vitall breath,
And tears my hart with sorrows sigh swoln
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, to his blackfac'd night:
Come thou and charme rebels in my breast,
Whose waking fancies doe my affright.
O come sleepe; come, or I die for ever:
Come ere my last sleepe comes, or never.