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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 96: Thought, With Good Cause
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Thought, with good cause thou lik`st so well the Night, 
Since kind or chance gives both one livery, 
Both sadly black, both blackly darken`d be, 
Night barr`d from sun, thou from thy own sunlight; 

Silence in both displays his sullen might, 
Slow Heaviness in both holds one degree-- 
That full of doubts, thou of perplexity; 
Thy tears express Night`s native moisture right. 

In both a mazeful solitariness: 
In Night of sprites the ghastly powers to stir, 
In thee, or sprites or sprited ghastliness. 

But, but (alas) Night`s side the odds hath fur, 
For that at length yet doth invite some rest, 
Thou though still tir`d, yet still do`st it detest.
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