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INVOCATION TO SLEEP.
BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.
COME, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
[From Byrd's songs, &c. about the year 1588. Little is known of this writer. ]
My mind to me a kingdom is,
Such perfect joy therein I find,
That God or nature hath assign'd :
No princely port, nor wealthy store,
Nor force to win a victory;
No shape to win a loving eye ;
I see that plenty surfeits oft,
And hasty climbers soonest fall ; I see that such as are aloft,
Mishap doth threaten most of all ; These get with toil, and keep with fear : Such cares my mind can never bear.
I press to bear no haughty sway;
I wish no more than may suffice; I do no more than well I may,
Look what I want, my mind supplies ; Lo, thus I triumph like a king, My mind's content with anything.
I laugh not at another's loss,
Nor grudge not at another's gain ;
I brook that is another's bane;
My wealth is health and perfect ease,
And conscience clear my chief defence; I never seek by bribes to please,
Nor by desert to give offence; Thus do I live, thus will I die ;
Would all do so as well as I !
BY ROBERT GREENE.
(ROBERT GREENE was born at Norwich, about the year 1560, and, after having been educated at Cambridge, travelled in foreign countries. When he returned to England he took orders, but, unfortunately, was a discredit to his profession on account of the irregularity of his life: in consequence he was deprived of his vicarage. He died in 1592, from excess at table. Some time before his death, however, he began to feel the pangs of remorse ; and in one of his plays draws an affecting picture of genius debased by vice.]
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content :
“AH! WHAT IS LOVE ?”
BY ROBERT GREENE.
And sweeter too :