A Valediction: Of Weeping

LET me pour forth My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here, For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear, And by this mintage they are something worth. For thus they be Pregnant of thee; Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more; When a tear falls, that thou fall'st which it bore; So thou and I are nothing then, when on a divers shore.

On a round ball A workman, that hath copies by, can lay An Europe, Afric, and an Asia, And quickly make that, which was nothing, all. So doth each tear, Which thee doth wear, A globe, yea world, by that impression grow, Till thy tears mix'd with mine do overflow This world, by waters sent from thee, my heaven dissolvèd so.

O ! more than moon, Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere; Weep me not dead, in thine arms, but forbear To teach the sea, what it may do too soon; Let not the wind Example find To do me more harm than it purposeth: Since thou and I sigh one another's breath, Whoe'er sighs most is cruellest, and hastes the other's death.