Dry those fair, those chrystal eyes br Which like growing fountains rise br To drown their banks. Griefs sullen brooks br Would better flow in furrow'd looks. br Thy lovely face was never meant br To be the shoar of discontent. br Then clear those watrish starres again br Which else portend a lasting rain; br Lest the clouds which settle there br Prolong my Winter all the Year: br And the example others make br In love with sorrow for thy sake.