COм. Why are you vext, Lady? why do you frown? Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; from thefe gates Sorrow flies far: See here be all the pleasures That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts, When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns Brifk as the April buds in primrose-season. And first behold this cordial julep here,
That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds,
With fpirits of balm, and fragrant fyrups mix'd.
Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,
Is of fuch power to ftir up joy as this,
To life fo friendly, or fo cool to thirst.
Why should
you be fo cruel to yourself,
By which all mortal frailty must subsist,
Refreshment after toil, eafe after pain,
That have been tir'd all day without repast,
And timely rest have wanted; but, fair Virgin,
This will restore all foon.
LA. 'Twill not, falfe traitor,
'Twill not restore the truth and honesty
That thou haft banish'd from thy tongue with lies.
Was this the cottage, and the safe abode
Thou toldst me of? What grim aspects are these,
Thefe ugly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me! 695
Hence with thy brew'd inchantments, foul deceiver;
Hast thou betray'd my credulous innocence
With visor'd falfhood, and base forgery?
And would't thou feek again to trap me here
With liquorih baits fit to infnare a brute ?
Were it a draft for Juno when fhe banquets,
I would not tafte thy treasonous offer; none
But fuch as are good men can give good things,
And that which is not good, is not delicious
To a well-govern'd and wife appetite.
COм. 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 fallow Abftinence.
Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth,
With fuch a full and unwithdrawing hand,
Covering the earth with odors, fruits, and flocks,
'Thronging the feas with spawn innumerable,
But all to pleafe, and fate the curious taste?
And fet to work millions of fpinning worms,
That in their green fhops weave the smooth-hair'd filk
To deck her fons, and, that no corner might
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins
She hutcht th' all-worshipt ore, and precious gems
To ftore her children with if all the world
Should in a pet of temperance feed on pulfe,
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,
Th' all-giver would be' unthank'd, would be unprais'd,
Not half his riches known, and yet despis'd,
And we should serve him as a grudging mafter,
As a penurious niggard of his wealth,
And live like Nature's baftards, not her fons,
Who would be quite furcharg'd with her own weight,
And ftrangled with her waste fertility,
Th' earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air darkt with plumes,
The herds would over-multitude their lords,
The fea o'erfraught would fwell, and th' unfought
diamonds
Would fo imblaze the forehead of the deep,
And fo bestud with stars, that they below
Would grow inur'd to light, and come at last
To gaze upon the fun with shameless brows.
Lift, Lady, be not coy, and be not cofen'd
With that fame vaunted name Virginity.
Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be horded,
But must be current, and the good thereof
Confifts in mutual and partaken blifs,
Unfavory in th' enjoyment of itfelf;
If you let flip time, like a neglected rofe
It withers on the stalk with languish'd head.
Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown
In courts, in feasts, and high folemnities,
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 fampler, and to tease the hufwife's wool.
What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that,
Love-darting eyes, or treffes like the morn?
There was another meaning in thefe gifts,
Think what, and be advis'd, you are but young yet.
LA. I had not thought to have unlockt my lips
In this unhallow'd air, but that this jugler
Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes,
Obtruding falfe rules prankt in reason's garb.
I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,
And virtue has no tongue to check her pride.
Impoftor, do not charge most innocent Nature,
As if he would her children should be riotous
With her abundance; fhe, good caterefs,
Means her provifion only to the good,
That live according to her sober laws,
And holy dictate of spare temperance:
If every juft man, that now pines with want,
Had but a moderate and befeeming share
Of that which lewdly-pamper'd luxury
Now heaps upon fome few with vaft excefs,
Nature's full bleffings would be well difpens'd
In unfuperfluous even proportion,
And the no whit incumber'd with her ftore,
And then the giver would be better thank'd,
His praise due paid; for fwinifh gluttony
Ne'er looks to Heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast,
But with befotted base ingratitude
Crams, and blafphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?
Or have I faid enough? To him that dares
Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
Against the fun-clad power of Chastity,
Fain would 1 fomething fay, yet to what end?
Thou haft nor ear, nor foul to apprehend
The fúblime notion, and high mystery,
That must be utter'd to unfold the fage
And serious doctrin of Virginity,
And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know
More happiness than this thy prefent lot.
Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,
That hath fo well been taught her dazling fence,
Thou art not fit to hear thyfelf convinc'd;
Yet fhould I try, the uncontrolled worth
Of this pure caufe would kindle my rapt spirits
To fuch a flame of facred vehemence,
That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathize,
And the brute earth would lend her nerves, and shake,
Till all thy magic structures rear'd fo high,
Were shatter'd into heaps o'er thy falfe head.
COм. She fables not, I feel that I do fear
Her words fet off by fome fuperior power;
And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew
Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove
Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus
To fome of Saturn's crew. I must diffemble,
And try her yet more ftrongly. Come, no more,
This is mere moral babble, and direct
Against the canon laws of our foundation;
I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but the lees
And fettlings of a melancholy blood :
But this will cure all ftrait, one sip of this
Will bathe the drooping fpirits in delight
Beyond the blifs of dreams. Be wife, and tafte.---
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