Funerall Elegies: Eleg. 17

RAre soule, that now sits crowned in that Quire
Of endlesse joy, fill'd with coelestiall fire;
Pardon my teares that in their passion would
Recall thee from thy Kingdome, if they could;
Pardon, O pardon my distracted zeale;
Which, if condemn'd by reason, must appeale
To thee, whose now lamented death, whose end
Confirm'd the deare affection of a friend;
Permit me then to offer at thy herse
These fruitles teares, which if they prove to fierce
O pardon, you, that know the price of friends;
For teares are just, that nature recommends.