There is not greife enough without you?
Or that it will asswage ill newes,
To say, Shee’s dead, that was your muse?
Joine not with Death to make these times
More grievous then most grievous rimes.
And if ’t be possible, deare eyes,
The famous Universityes,
If bold your eyes bee matches, sleepe;
Or, if you will be loyall, weepe:
For-beare the press, there’s none will looke