Parting, Celia weepes.

WEepe not (my deare) for I shall goe
Loaden enough with mine owne woe;
Adde not thy heavinesse to mine,
Since Fate our pleasures must dis-joyne.
Why should our sorrowes meet? if I
Must goe, and lose thy company,
I wish not theirs; it shall relieve
My griefe, to thinke thou dost not grieve.
Yet grieve, and weepe, that I may beare
Every sigh, and every teare.
Away with me, so shall thy brest
And eyes discharg'd, enjoy their rest.
And it will glad my heart to see,
Thou wer't thus loath to part with me….