O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down. And steep my senses in forgetfulness ! Why, rather, Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing...
The Plays of Shakspeare: Printed from the Text of Samuel Johnson, George ... - Pagina 167
de William Shakespeare - 1807
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