I saw my lady weep, And Sorrow proud to be advanced so, In those fair eyes where all perfections keep. Her face was full of woe, But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts, Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts. O fairer than aught else The world can show, leave off in time to grieve. Enough, enough, your joyful looks excels. Tears kill the heart, believe; O strive not to be excellent in woe, Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.
suffiice 1 year ago