SONNET.

DRy those fair, those chrystal eyes
Which like growing fountains rise
To drown their banks. Griefs …ullen brooks
Would better flow in furrow'd looks▪
Thy lovely face was never meant
To be the shoar of discontent.

Then clear those watrish starres again
Which else portend a lasting rain;
Lest the clouds which settle there
Prolong my Winter all the Year:
And the example others make
In love with sorrow for thy sake.