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 Which like a vestal virgin ply With holy fire lest that it die. Grow up with milder laws to know At what time to say aye or no; Let manners teach thee where to be More comely flowing, where less free. These bring thy husband, like to those Old coins and medals we expose To th' show, but never part with. Next, As in a more conspicuous text, Thy forehead, let therein be sign'd The maiden candour of thy mind; And under it two chaste-born spies To bar out bold adulteries, For through these optics fly the darts Of lust which set on fire our hearts. On either side of these quick ears There must be plac'd, for seasoned fears Which sweeten love, yet ne'er come nigh The plague of wilder jealousy. Then let each cheek of thine entice His soul as to a bed of spice Where he may roll and lose his sense, As in a bed of frankincense. A lip enkindled with that coal With which love chafes and warms the soul, Bring to him next, and in it show Love's cherries from such fires grow And have their harvest, which must stand The gathering of the lip, not hand; Then unto these be it thy care