How can I then return in happy plight That am debarr'd the benefit of rest? When day's oppression is not eas'd by night, But day by night and night by day oppress'd; And each (though enemies to either's reign) Do in consent shake hands to torture me, The one by toil, the other to complain How far I toil, still farther off from thee. I tell the day, to please him, thou art bright, And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven; So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night, When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st th' even:      But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,      And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.