CHAPTER XXV. 
TEW—SOKEOW. 
Y. 
Weep no more, nor sigh nor groan. 
Sorrow calls no timethat’s gone ; 
Violets plucked, the sweetest rain 
Makes not fresh, nor grow again. 
Trim yonr locks, look cheerfully, 
Pate’s hidden ends no eye can see 
Joys as winged dreams fly fast. 
Why should sorrows longer last ? 
Grief is but a wound to woe; 
Gentle fair, mourn, mourn no more. 
I. Fletcher. 
E 
