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.
