John Wilbye: Verses about Tears

Weep, O mine eyes and cease not,
Out alas, these your spring tides methinks increase not.
O when begin you
to swell so high that I may drown me in you?

Ah! cannot sighs not tears, nor aught else move thee
To pity me, who more than life do love thee?
O cruel fates! see, now away she’s flying,
And fly, alas! alas! and leave me dying.
Farewell, most fair, farewell, yet more disdainful:
Was never grief like mine, nor death more painful.