My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do moch my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
`The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?
O no; thy love, though mush, is not so great.
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake.
For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near.
-Shakespeare
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