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O, Do not wanton with those eyes!
Lest I be sick with seeing:

Nor cast them down; but let them rise! Lest shame destroy their being.

O, be not angry with those fires!

For then their threats will kill me : Nor look too kind on my desires!

For then my hopes will spill me.

O, do not steep them in thy tears!
For so will sorrow slay me :
Nor spread them, as distract with fears!
Mine own enough betray me!


COME, noble Nymphs! and do not hide
The joys, for which you so provide!
If not to mingle with us men;
What do you here? Go home again!
Your dressings do confess,
By what we see, so curious arts,
Of PALLAS' and ARACHNE's arts,
That you could mean no less!

Why do you wear the silkworm's toils,
Or glory in the shell-fish spoils,
Or strive to show the grains of ore
That you have gathered long before,
Whereof to make a stock
To graft the green em'rald on;
Or any better watered stone,
Or ruby of the rock?

Why do you smell of ambergris,
Whereof was formèd NEPTUNE's niece,
The Queen of Love; unless you can,
Like sea-born VENUS, love a man?

Try! Put yourselves unto 't! [meet, Your looks, your smiles, and thoughts that Ambrosian hands, and silver feet, Do promise you will do 't!

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