Q 95

HOw sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame,
Which like a canker in the fragrant Rose,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name ?

Oh in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose !

That tongue that tells the story of thy days,
(Making lascivious comments on thy sport)
Cannot dispraise, but in a kind of praise,
Naming thy name, blesses an ill report.

Oh what a mansion have those vices got,
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot,
And all things turns to fair, that eyes can see !

Take heed (dear heart) of this large privilege,
The hardest knife ill us'd doth lose his edge.
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