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As it goes round, each give his mistress some
Nabbs's Covent Gardens, When she was born, nature in sport began To learn the c!inning of an artisan ; And did vermilion with a white compose, To mock herself, and paint a damask rose : But scorning nature unto art should seek, She spilt her colours on this maiden's cheek. Her mouth, the gate, from whence all goodness came : Of pow'r to give the dead a living name. Her words embalmed in so sweet a breath, That made them triumph both on time and death-; Whose fragrant sweets, since the camelion knew, And tasted of, he to this humour grew; Left other elements ; held this so rare, That since he never feeds on aught but air.
Brown's Pastorals I have a mistress, for perfection, rare In ev'ry eye; but in my thoughts most fair : Like tapers on the altar, shine her eyes ; Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice : And whensoe'er my fancy would begin ; Still her perfection lets religion in :
I touch her like my beads, with devout care;
Randolph, If when the fun at noon displays
His brighter rays,
Thou but appear, He then, all pale with shame and fear,
Quencheth his light;
And grows more dim,
Suckling The soldier that joins conquest to his namę
By victories, when o'ercome with years, As you must one day be, preserves his fame, Not by those wounds he gave, but those he bears :
So when your charms, in age's furrows lie
Lolt, and forgotten they had once so mov'd ; One wound amidst your heaps of victory,
Would better tell that you had been belov'd. Then like a Tyrant ravilh'd from his throne, You'il with, that you had gentlier usd your own.
Sir Robert Howard. Some fragrant flow'rs the smell ; fome trees the fight Do much content ; some pearls are wond'rous bright ; There's not so sweet a flow'r, fo fair a tree, So pure a gem in all the world, as she : Some ladies humble are, and some are wise ; Some chast, some kind, some fair to please the eyes ; All virtues do in her like stars appear, And make a glorious constellation there.
Watkins, Mens eyes are dim, but womens blind to excellence. This beauteous woman look'd upon my head And saw no crown on it, and look'd no deeper : Thus are our sex by women oft deceiv'd ; The gallant thinks his mistress fees his qualities, She only sees his equipage and garniture : Th' old wooden lord sees a young beauty glance, He thinks on him ; alas ! 'tis on a toy, More wooden than himself, his coronet : The statesman thinks his great parts charm his mistress; She only looks on's great house, his great train : The brave young hero thinks his miitress values him, Because his courage can support her honour ; ?Tis for his pages to hold up her tail.
Crown's Ambitious Statesman, M O D E S T r. 1. Of all Aowers methinks a role is best. 2. Why, gentle madam? 1. It is the very emblem of a maid : For when the west wind courts her gently, How modestly she blows, and paints the sun
M OD With her chale blushes ? when the north comes near hery Rude and impatient, then like chastity She locks her beauties in her bud again, And leayes him to base briars.
Shakespear and Rowley's Trwo Noble Kinsmen. I ask, that I might waken reverence ; And bid the cheek be ready with a blush Modelt as morning, when the coldly eyes The youthful Phabus.
Shakespear's Troilus and Crefida. Strange cross in nature ! pureit virgin shame Lies in the blood, as luft lies; and together Many times mix too : and in none more thameful Than in the shamefic'd. Who can then distinguish: 'Twixt their affections ; or tell when he meets With one not common ? yet, as worthiest poets Shun common and plebeian forms of speech, 'Ev'ry illib'ral and affected phrase To cloath their matter ; and together tie Matter, and form, with art and decency : So worthielt women should shun vulgar guises ; And though they cannot but fly out for change, Yet modesty, the matter of their lives, Be it adult'rate, should be painted true With modest out-parts ; what they should do still Grac'd with good Thew, though deeds be ne'er so ill.
Chapman's Revenge of Bully D'ambo isa A modeft silence, though 't be thought
A virgin's beauty, and her highelt honour ; Though ba mful feignings nicely wrought,
Grace her, that virtue takes not in, buton her ; What I dare think, I boldly speak ;
After my word, my well-old action rusheth; In open flame then passion break; Where virtue prompts, thought, word, act, never blusheth,
Marfion's Sophonisba. 1. You are so bashful. 2. "Tis not at first word, up and ride ; thou art
Cozen'd, that would shew mad in faith; besides,
Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit without Money.
Webster's White Devil.
Virtue’s vain sign, which only there appears
And shapes more fins, than frighted conscience fears.
You must as nature, not as virtue own;
As guiltless roses blush that they are blown.
Sir W. Davenant's Gondibert.