In sighes divided, rescues me from death.
To Castara,
Weeping.
Castara! O you are too prodigall
Oth' treasure of your teares; which thus let fall
Make no returne: well plac'd calme peace might bring
To the loud wars, each free a captiv'd King.
So the unskilfull Indian those bright jems,
Which might adde majestie to Diadems,
'Mong the waves scatters, as if he would store