To penitent Magdalen

Mary, but late the cage of Hell,
Thy heavenly change what Muse can tell?
Those twinkling eyes that did allure
To sordid lust, now droppe the pure
Pearle of Contrition; and that haire
That wandering Cupids did ensnare,
And wav'd its pride in every streete,
Now humbly licks her Saviours feete,
And from those blessed roots derives
Vertue, more worth than thousand lives.
To cleanse thy stain'd affections then,
Still weepe and wipe, kind Magdalen.