Like feather bed betwixt a wall

And heavy brunt of cannon ball.

Samuel Butler (1600-1680): Hudibras. Part i. Canto ii. Line 872.

In bed we laugh, in bed we cry;

And, born in bed, in bed we die.

The near approach a bed may show

Of human bliss to human woe.

How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 2.

The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,

The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;

The chest, contriv'd a double debt to pay,—

A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): The Deserted Village. Line 227.

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.

John Milton (1608-1674): Lycidas. Line 168.

O bed! O bed! delicious bed!

That heaven upon earth to the weary head!

Thomas Hood (1798-1845): Her Dream.

Early to bed and early to rise,

Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790): Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757.

From his brimstone bed, at break of day,

A-walking the Devil is gone,

To look at his little snug farm of the World,

And see how his stock went on.

Robert Southey (1774-1843): The Devil's Walk. Stanza 1.

And he that will to bed go sober

Falls with the leaf still in October.

John Fletcher (1576-1625): The Bloody Brother. Act ii. Sc. 2.

What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight?

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber!

Holy angels guard thy bed!

Heavenly blessings without number

Gently falling on thy head.

Isaac Watts (1674-1748): A Cradle Hymn.

Sparkling and bright in liquid light

Does the wine our goblets gleam in;

With hue as red as the rosy bed

Which a bee would choose to dream in.

Charles Fenno Hoffman (1806-1884): Sparkling and Bright.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,

Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,

Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,

Remembers me of all his gracious parts,

Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King John. Act iii. Sc. 4.

The heaven's breath

Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,

Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird

Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:

Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,

The air is delicate.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 6.

When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,

And innocence is closing up his eyes,

Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,

From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.

Michael Drayton (1563-1631): Ideas. An Allusion to the Eaglets. lxi.

Me let the tender office long engage

To rock the cradle of reposing age;

With lenient arts extend a mother's breath,

Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death;

Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,

And keep awhile one parent from the sky.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 408.

The tyrant custom, most grave senators,

Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war

My thrice-driven bed of down.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Othello. Act i. Sc. 3.

Sleep is a death; oh, make me try

By sleeping what it is to die,

And as gently lay my head

On my grave as now my bed!

Sir Thomas Browne (1605-1682): Religio Medici. Part ii. Sect. xii.

Oh would I were dead now,

Or up in my bed now,

To cover my head now,

And have a good cry!

Thomas Hood (1798-1845): A Table of Errata.

In bed we laugh, in bed we cry;

And, born in bed, in bed we die.

The near approach a bed may show

Of human bliss to human woe.

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,

Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,

Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to victory!

Now's the day and now's the hour;

See the front o' battle lour.

Robert Burns (1759-1796): Bannockburn.

Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.

James Hurdis (1763-1801): The Village Curate.