To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. Why should you be so cruel to yourself,
And to those dainty limbs, which nature lent For gentle usage and soft delicacy?
But you invert the covenants of her trust, And harshly deal, like an ill borrower, With that which you received on other terms; Scorning the unexempt condition
By which all mortal frailty must subsist, Refreshment after toil, ease after pain, That have been tired all day without repast, And timely rest have wanted; but, fair virgin, This will restore all soon.
'T will not, false traitor! "T will not restore the truth and honesty That thou hast banish'd from thy tongue with lies. Was this the cottage, and the safe abode,
Thou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these, These ugly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me! Hence with thy brew'd enchantments, foul deceiver! Hast thou betray'd my credulous innocence With visor'd falsehood and base forgery? And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here With liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute? Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets, I would not taste thy treasonous offer; none, But such as are good men, can give good things; And that which is not good is not delicious To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.
Comus. O foolishness of men! that lend their ears To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur,
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub, Praising the lean and sallow abstinence! Wherefore did nature pour her bounties forth With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, But all to please and sate the curious taste? And set to work millions of spinning worms, That in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd
To deck her sons; and, that no corner might Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins
She hutch'd the all-worshipp'd ore and precious
To store her children with: if all the world Should, in a pet of temperance, feed on pulse, Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, The All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unpraised,
Not half his riches known, and yet despised, And we should serve him as a grudging master, As a penurious niggard of his wealth;
And live like nature's bastards, not her sons, Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,
And strangled with her waste fertility
The earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark'd with plumes,
The herds would over-multitude their lords,
The sea, o'erfraught, would swell, and the unsought diamonds
Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep, And so bestud with stars, that they below Would grow inured to light, and come at last To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows. List, lady; be not coy, and be not cozen'd With that same vaunted name, virginity. Beauty is nature's coin; must not be hoarded, But must be current; and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss, Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself; If you let slip time, like a neglected rose, It withers on the stalk with languish'd head. Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown. In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, Where most may wonder at the workmanship: It is for homely features to keep home,
They had their name thence; coarse complexions, And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply The sampler, and to tease the housewife's wool. What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that, Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn? There was another meaning in these gifts; Think what, and be advised; you are but young yet. Lady. I had not thought to have unlock'd my lips In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes, Obtruding false rules prank'd in reason's garb. I hate when vice can bolt her arguments, And virtue has no tongue to check her pride. Impostor! do not charge most innocent nature As if she would her children should be riotous
With her abundance; she, good cateress, Means her provision only to the good, That live according to her sober laws, And holy dictate of spare temperance: If every just man, that now pines with want, Had but a moderate and beseeming share Of that which lewdly-pamper'd luxury
Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed In unsuperfluous even proportion,
And she no whit encumber'd with her store: And then the Giver would be better thank'd, His praise due paid; for swinish gluttony Ne'er looks to heaven amidst his gorgeous feast, But, with besotted base ingratitude,
Crams, and blasphemes his Feeder. Shall I go on? Or have I said enough? To him that dares Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words Against the sun-clad power of chastity,
Fain would I something say;-yet to what end? Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehend The sublime notion, and high mystery, That must be utter'd to unfold the sage And serious doctrine of virginity;
And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know More happiness than this thy present lot.
Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,
That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence; Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced:
Yet, should I try, the uncontrolled worth
Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits
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