Classic Poem

?Nay, dry (for shame) those blubber'd eyes,
??And cease to sigh that breath away,
?Fates are not mov'd with tears and cryes,
??Nor formal sighs as vain as they
Joyes are not joyes, that alwaies stay,
And constant pleasures don't delight but cloy

?Though he be gone, that was your dear,
??Must you for ever mourne and pine?
?The Sun that's buried the last Year,
??Does now in newer glory shine
Your Nuptial joyes and pleasures be
Not dead, but only inherited by me.

? Hymen's an Artist, and can do
??The next time better then before,
?Giants great heights can reach unto,
??But on their shoulders dwarfs reach more
Men more refin'd do dayly grow,
The nearer to Divinity they go.

?Then don't (my dear) thy heart confine,
??To one whose being's past away,
?And make me with desires to pine,
??Whilst he must glut, that can't injoy
Love's stifled, when it is confind,
To this or that; its object is mankind