The Hour-glass

That hour-glass which there you see

With water fill'd, sirs, credit me,

The humour was, as I have read,

But lovers' tears incrystalled.

Which, as they drop by drop do pass

From th' upper to the under-glass,

Do in a trickling manner tell,

By many a watery syllable,

That lovers' tears in lifetime shed

Do restless run when they are dead.