Though with good cause thou lik’st so well the night.
Since kind or chaunce gives both one libertie,
Both sadly blacke, both blackly darkned be:
Night bard from Sunne, thou from thine own Sunnes light
Silence in both displaies his sullen might:
Slowe Heavens in both do hold the one degree,
That full of doubts, thou of perplexitie:
Thy teares expresse nights native moysture right,
In both a wofull solitarines:
In night of Spirites the gastly power sturr,
And in our sprites are Spirits gastlines:
But but (alas) nights sights the ods hath fure,
For that at length invites us to some rest,
Thou though still tyr’d, yet still dost it detest.