Oh tears, no tears, but rain from Beauty's skies, br Making those lilies and those roses grow, br Which aye most fair, now more than most fair show, br While graceful Pity Beauty beautifies. br br Oh honeyed sighs, which from that breast do rise, br Whose pants do make unspilling cream to flow, br Wing'd with whose breath, so pleasing zephyrs blow br As can refresh the hell where my soul fries. br br Oh plaints conserv'd in such a sugar'd phrase br That Eloquence itself envies your praise br While sobb'd-out words a perfect music give. br br Such tears, sighs, plaints, no sorrow is but joy: br Or if such heav'nly signs must prove annoy, br All mirth farewell, let me in sorrow live.