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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 goe on?
Or have I ſaid enough? to him that dares
Arme his profane tongue with reproachfull words
Againſt the Sun-clad power of Chastity
Faine would I ſomething ſay, yet to what end?
Thou haſt nor Eare, nor Soule to apprehend
The ſublime notion, and high myſterie
That muſt be utter'd to unfold the ſage
And ſerious doctrine of Virginitie,
And thou art worthy that thou ſhouldſt not know
More happineſſe then this thy præſent lot.
Enjoy your deere Wit, and gay Rhetorick
That hath ſo well beene taught her dazling fence,
Thou art not fit to heare thy ſelfe convinc't;
Yet ſhould I trie, the uncontrouled worth
Of this pure cauſe would kindle my rap't 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 ſhake,
Till all thy magick ſtructures rear'd ſo high
Were ſhatter'd into heaps ore thy falſe head.
Co. She fables not, I feele that I doe feare
Her words ſet off by ſome ſuperior power;
And though not mortall, yet a cold ſhuddring dew
Dips me all o' e, as when the wrath of Iove
Speaks thunder, and the chaines of Erebus
To ſome of Saturns crew. I muſt diſſemble,
And try her yet more ſtrongly. Come; no more,
