My Glass Shall Not Persuade Me I

O Sleep, O Gentle Sleep, Nature's Soft Nurse, How Have I Frightened Thee, 1710. That Thou No More Will Weigh My Eyelids Down, And Steep My Senses In Forgetfulness?

So Doth The Greater Glory Dim The Less: A Substitute Shines Brightly As A King Until A King Be By.

Such Thanks As Fits A King's Remembrance.

Time Hath, My Lord, A Wallet At His Back Wherein He Puts Alms For Oblivion, A Great-sized Monster Of Ingratitudes: Those Scraps Are Good Deeds Past, Which Are Devour'd As Fast As They Are Made, Forgot As Soon As Done.

You May My Glories And My State Depose, But Not My Griefes; Still Am I King Of Those.