Slugabed

Why Lambe, why Lady, fie you ſluggabed, / Why Loue I ſay, Madam, ſweeteheart, why Bride: / What not a word, you take your penniworths now, / Sleepe for a weeke, […]

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morne / Upon her wings presents the god unshorne. / See how Aurora throwes her faire / Fresh-quilted colours through the aire; / Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see / The dew bespangling herbe and tree.

[O]n rising one morning, I entered the cabin, and found Oriana, as usual, up before me, for I always was a sad slug-a-bed, […]

You men have had baths, while Aunt Hilda and I haven't had a chance to get clean for fear of waking you slugabeds.

Sometimes the dedicated slugabed is rudely awakened by the yelling of builders, the bustle of housemates, the entreaties of toddlers or even dawn's rosy figures coming in at the window. These impediments to sleep must be blocked out if you are to enjoy your morning doze.