Classic Poem

L amia the witch (as Poets featlie faine)
Still in a box, at home puts vp her Eies!
But going abrode shee put them in againe
Their propper holes, wherewith each Mote she spies:
So, thou at home, (that is, thy selfe within
O hellish Cereas that bewitchest me)
Pul'st out thine Eies: that is, seest not thy Sin;
But yet abrode thou mine too wel dost see
Thou saist I haue deceau'd thee in thy loue
By other Loues; and so, thou me dost hate
Vpon a meer surmise: but I can proue
Where thou thy Chastitie did'st vulnerate:
O no, I lie, thou stil didst keepe it sound
But others gaue, and it receau'd the wound.