TO THE LADYES OF THE NEW DRESSE, THAT WEARE THEIR GORGETS AND RAYLES DOWNE TO THEIR WASTES.

Ladyes, that weare black cipress-vailes Turn’d lately to white linnen-rayles, And to your girdle weare your bands, And shew your armes instead of hands; What can you doe in Lent so meet As, fittest dress, to weare a sheet? ’Twas once a band, ’tis now a cloake, An acorne one day proves an oke: Weare but your linnen to your feet, And then your band will prove a sheet. By which devise, and wise excesse, You’l doe your penance in a dresse; And none shall know, by what they see, Which lady’s censur’d, and which free.