Go crystal tears, like to the morning show'rs
And gently weep into thy lady's breast.
And as the dews revive the drooping flow'rs,
So let my drops of pity be addressed
To quicken up the thoughts of my desert:
Which sleeps too sound, whilst I from her depart.
Haste restless sighs and let your burning breath
Disolve the ice of her indurate heart
Whose frozen rigour like forgetful death
Feels never any touch of my desert,
Yet sighs and tears to her i sacrifice,
Both from a spotless heart and patient eyes.