| I saw my lady weep, |
| And Sorrow proud to be advanced so, |
| In those fair eyes where all perfections keep. |
| Her face was full of woe, |
| But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts, |
| Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts. |
| Sorrow was there made fair, |
| And Passion wise, tears a delightful thing, |
| Silence beyond all speech a wisdom rare. |
| She made her sighs to sing, |
| And all things with so sweet a sadness move, |
| As made my heart at once both grieve and love. |
| O fairer than aught else |
| The world can show, leave off in time to grieve. |
| Enough, enough, your joyful looks excels. |
| Tears kill the heart, believe; |
| O strive not to be excellent in woe, |
| Which only breeds your beauty’s overthrow. |