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

Come heavy sleepe the image of true
And close up my weary weeping eyes:
Whose spring of tears stop my vitall breath,
And my hart with sorrows sigh swoln cries:
Come and posses my tired 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 and charme these rebels in my breast,
waking fancies doe my mind affright.
O come sweet sleepe; come, or I die for
ere my last sleepe comes, or come never.