Take Physic, Pomp; Expose Thyself To Feel

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?

A Fellow By The Hand Of Nature Mark'd, Quoted, And Sign'd, To Do A Deed Of Shame.

There Is Thy Gold, Worse Poison To Men's Souls, Doing More Murder In This Loathsome World, Than These Poor Compounds That Thou Mayst Not Sell.

Cupid Is A Knavish Lad, Thus To Make Poor Females Mad.

All Days Are Nights To See Till I See Thee, And Nights Bright Days When Dreams Do Show Thee Me.