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Come down and dance ye in the toil Of pleasures to a heat; But if to moisture, let the oil Of roses be your sweat. Not only to yourselves assume These sweets, but let them fly From this to that, and so perfume E'en all the standers by; As goddess Isis, when she went Or glided through the street, Made all that touched her, with her scent, And whom she touched, turn sweet.

When I thy parts run o'er, I can't espy In any one the least indecency; But every line and limb diffused thence A fair and unfamiliar excellence: So that the more I look the more I prove There's still more cause why I the more should love.

Indecency, uncomeliness.

The seeds of treason choke up as they spring: He acts the crime that gives it cherishing.