With that same vaunted name Virginity,
        Beauty is natures coyn, must not be hoorded,
        But must be currant, and the good thereof
        Consists in mutual and partak'n bliss,
        Unsavoury in th' injoyment of it self
        If you let slip time, like a neglected rose
        It withers on the stalk with languish't head.
        Beauty is natures 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; course complexions
        And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply
        The sampler, and to teize the huswifes wooll.
        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 adviz'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 judgement, as mine eyes,
        Obtruding false rules pranckt in reasons garb.
        I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,
        And vertue 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 onely 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 som few with vast excess,
        Natures full blessings would be well dispenc't
        In unsuperfluous eeven proportion,
        And she no whit encomber'd with her store,
        And then the giver would be better thank't,
        His praise due paid, for swinish gluttony
        Ne're looks to Heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast,
        But with besotted base ingratitude
        Cramms, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?
        Or have I said anough? To him that dares
        Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
        Against the Sun-clad power of Chastity,
        Fain would I somthing say, yet to what end?
        Thou hast nor Eare, 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 then this thy present lot.
        Enjoy your deer Wit, and gay Rhetorick
        That hath so well been taught her dazling fence,
        Thou art not fit to hear thy self convinc't;
        Yet should I try, the uncontrouled worth
        Of this pure cause would kindle my rap't spirits
        To of a flame of sacred vehemence,
        That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathize,
        And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,
        Till all thy magick structures rear'd so high,
        Were shatter'd heaps o're thy false head.
          Co. She fables not, I feel that I do fear
        Her words set off by som superior power;
        And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddring dew
        Dips me all o're, as when the wrath of Jove
        Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus
        To som of Saturns crew. I must dissemble,
        And try her yet more strongly. Com, no more,
        This is meer moral babble, and direct
        Against the canon laws of our foundation;
        I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but the lees
        And setlings of a melancholy blood;
        But this will cure all streight, one sip of this
        Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight
        Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.-

  The Brothers rush in with Swords drawn, wrest his Glass out of his
hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make signe of
resistance, but are all driven in; The attendant Spirit comes in

          Spir. What, have you let the false enchanter scape?
        O ye mistook, ye should have snatcht his wand
        And bound him fast; without his rod revers't,
        And backward mutters of dissevering power,
        We cannot free the Lady that sits here
        In stony fetters fixt, and motionless;
        Yet stay, be not disturb'd, now I bethink me,
        Som other means I have which may be us'd,
        Which once of Meliboeus old I learnt
        The soothest Shepherd that ere pip't on plains.
          There is a gentle Nymph not farr from hence,
        That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream,
        Sabrina is her name, a Virgin pure,
        Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,
        That had the Scepter from his father Brute.
        The guiltless damsel flying the mad pursuit
        Of her enraged stepdam Guendolen,
        Commended her innocence to the flood
        That stay'd her flight with his cross-flowing course,