Sonnet: Depose your finger of that Ring
I.
Depose your finger of that Ring,
And Crowne mine with’t awhile
Now I restor’t.—Pray, do’s it bring
Back with it more of soile?
Or shines it not as innocent,
As honest, as before 'twas lent?
II.
So then inrich me with that Treasure,
Will but increase your store,
And please me (faire one) with that pleasure
Must please you still the more:
Not to save others is a curse
The blackest, when y’are ne’re the worse.
