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 If you let lip time, like a neglected roe It withers on the talke with languih't head. Beautie is natures brag, and mut be howne In courts, at feats, and high olemnities Where mot may wonder at the workmanhip; It is for homely features to keepe home, They had their name thence; coure complexions And cheeks of orrie graine will erve to ply The ampler, and to teize the huwifes wooll. What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that Love-darting eyes, or trees like the Morne There was another meaning in thee gifts? Thinke what, and be adviz'd, you are but yong yet.
 * La. I had not thought to have unlockt my lips

In this unhallow'd aire, but that this Jugler Would thinke to charme my judgment, as mine eyes Obtruding fale rules pranckt in reaons garbe. I hate when vice can bolt her arguments And vertue has no tongue to check her pride: Impotor doe not charge mot innocent nature As if he would her children hould be riotous With her abundance, he good cateree Means her proviion only to the good That live according to her ober laws And holy dictate of pare Temperance, If every jut man that now pines with want Had but a moderate, and beeeming hare Of that which lewdy-pamper'd Luxurie Now heaps upon ome few with vat excee, Natures full bleings would be well dipenc't In unuperfluous even proportion, And he no whit encomber'd with her tore, And