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, 715
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 [gems,
She hutch'd th' all-worshipp'd ore, and precious
To store her children with: if all the world
Should in a pet of temp'rance feed on pulse,
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but
707 budge] Skeltons Magnificence, 4to. p. 13. In the stede of a budge furre.' Rump Songs (1662) p. 211. With Presbyterian budge.' Rowland's Satires, Sat. 2. p. C. 3. His Jacket fac'd with moth eaten budge.' Bugg, Buge, Budge, is lamb's fur.-Budge Batchlors, a company of poor old men clothed in long gowns lined with lamb's fur, who attend on the Lord Mayor the first day he enters on his office. Cullum's H. of Haustead, p. 11.
707 fur] Shirley's Triumph of Peace, p. 2. a grim philosophical-fac'd fellow in his gowne furr'd. Brome's Love-sick Court, p. 141. He clothes his words in furrs and hoods.' P. Plowman, p. 35. That Physicke shall his furr'd hood for his fode sell.' And Censura Literaria, vol. vii. p.18.
710 Nature] Heywood's Golden Age, p. 56. 4to. 1611.
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 master,
As a penurious niggard of his wealth;
And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons,
Who would be quite surcharg'd with her own
weight,
And strangled with her waste fertility;
Th' earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark'd with
The herds would over-multitude their lords,
The sea o'erfraught would swell, and th' unsought
diamonds
Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep,
And so bestud with stars, that they below
Would grow inur'd to light, and come at last 735
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 th' 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,
730 air] See Drayton's Polyolbion, Song 25. p. 1156.
132 The sea] See Benlowes's Theophila, st. xvii. p. 97.
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 750
The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool.
What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that,
Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
There was another meaning in these gifts,
Think what, and be advis'd, you are but young yet.
LAD. I had not thought to have unlockt my
In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler [lips
748 homely] The same turn of expression in the opening of the Two Gent."of Verona :
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.' Newton. Middleton's Mich. Terme, p. 14,
'Let coarser beauties work within,
Whom the light mocks; thou art fair and fresh.'
748 keep home] so Plauti Menæchm, act. 1. sc. i. 29. 'Domi domitus fui.'
751 tease] Juv. Sat. vi. 289. Vellere Tusco vexate duræque manus.' Fleming's Virgil, p. 14. Wenches toozing wool. Shakespeare's Poems, p. 200, teasing wool.'
'Concharum tincta 'Crouch low! Oh,
752 vermeil-tinctur'd] Lucr. ii. 500. colore.' Benlowes's Theophila, p. 2. vermeil tinctur'd cheek!'-The last mention of this word' vermeil, as applied to the cheek, know, is in Fielding's Love in Several Masques, act i. sc. 5. Lord Formal says, 'It has exagitated my complexion to that exorbitancy of vermeille,' &c.
753 tresses] Hom. Od. v. 390. Nonni Dionysiaca xi. 388. Evoμnpiyyos "Houg. Stanley's Poèms, p. 47.
'She whose loosely flowing hair
Scatter'd like the beams o' the morn.
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 dispens'd
In unsuperfluous even proportion,
And she no wit incumber'd with her store;
And then the giver would be better thank'd,
His praise due paid; for swinish gluttony
Ne'er looks to heav'n 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 pow'r 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 convinc'd ;
Yet should I try, the uncontrolled worth
Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits
To such a flame of sacred vehemence,
That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathize,
And the brute earth would lend her nerves, and
Till all thy magic structures rear'd so high,
Were shatter'd into heaps o'er thy false head.
COм. She fables not, I feel that I do fear 800 Her words set off by some superior power: And though not mortal, yet a cold shudd'ring dew Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus,
To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble, 805
And try her yet more strongly. 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 settlings of a melancholy blood:
But this will cure all straight, one sip of this
797 brute] Hor. Od. i. xxxiv. 9. Bruta tellus.' Warton.
809 lees] I like the MS. reading best,
'This is mere moral stuff, the very lees.'
'Yet' is bad. 'But' very inaccurate.
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