1 This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.
2 Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.
3 Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep.
4 Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, And her immortal part with angels lives.
5 If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.
6 As I did sleep under this yew tree here, I dreamt my master and another fought, And that my master slew him.
7 And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
8 Then gave I her, so tutored by my art, A sleeping potion, which so took effect As I intended, for it wrought on her The form of death.
9 Madam, if you could find out but a man To bear a poison, I would temper it, That Romeo should upon receipt thereof, Soon sleep in quiet.
10 Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.