To His Book.
Before the press scarce one could see
A little-peeping-part of thee;
But since thou’rt printed, thou dost call
To show thy nakedness to all.
My care for thee is now the less,
Having resign’d thy shamefac’dness.
Go with thy faults and fates; yet stay
And take this sentence, then away:
Whom one belov’d will not suffice,
She’ll run to all adulteries.