And vaunt a proud descent, they onely be Loud heralds to set forth her pedigree. Come all who glory in your wealth, and view The embleme of your frailty. How untrue (Though flattering like friends) your treasures are, Her Fate hath taught[21]: who, when what ever rare The either Indies boast, lay richly spread For her to weare, lay on her pillow dead. Come likewise my _Castara_ and behold, What blessings ancient prophesie foretold, Bestow'd on her in death. She past away So sweetely from the world, as if her clay Laid onely downe to slumber. Then forbeare To let on her blest ashes fall a teare. But if th'art too much woman, softly weepe. Lest griefe disturbe the silence of her sleepe. [20] we. 1634. [21] Her Fate hath taught you: who, when what ever rare. 1634, 1635. _To_ CASTARA, _Being to take a journey_. What's death more than departure; the dead go Like travelling exiles, compell'd to know Those regions they heard mention of: Tis th'art Of sorrowes, sayes, who dye doe but depart. Then weepe thy funerall teares: which heaven t'adorne The beauteous tresses of the weeping morne, Will rob me of: and thus my tombe shall be As naked, as it had no obsequie. Know in these lines, sad musicke to thy eare, My sad _Castara_, you the sermon here Which I preach o're my hearse: And dead, I tell My owne lives story, ring but my owne knell. But when I shall returne, know 'tis thy breath 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 The thanklesse Sea, to make our Empire poore. When heaven darts thunder at the wombe of Time, Cause with each moment it brings forth a crime, Or else despairing to roote out abuse, Would ruine vitious earth; be then profuse. Light, chas'd rude chaos from the world before, Thy teares, by hindring it's returne, worke more. _To_ CASTARA, _Upon a sigh_.