To his Booke.

WHile thou didst keep thy Cander undefil'd,
Deerely I lov'd thee; as my first-borne child:
But when I saw thee want only to roame
From house to house, and never stay at home;
I brake my bonds of Love, and bad thee goe,
Regardlesse whether well thou sped'st, or no.
On with thy fortunes then, what e're they be;
If good I'le smile, if bad I'le sigh for Thee.