ı saw my lady weep,
and sorrow proud to be advanced so,
ın 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.
sorrow was there made fair,
and passion wise, tears a delightful thing,
silence beyond all speech a wisdom rare,
she made her sighs to sing,
and all things with so sweet a sadness move,
as made my heart at once both grieve and love.
o fairer than aught else,
the world can show, leave off in time to grieve,
enough, enough, your joyful looks excels,
tears kills the heart.
o strive not to be excellent in woe,
which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.

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