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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! "Twill 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,

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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 silk,

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

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