Page:Hudibras - Volume 1 (Butler, Nash, Bohn; 1859).djvu/235

CANTO I.] 'Twas this made vestal maids love-sick, And venture to be buried quick. Some, by their fathers and their brothers, To be made mistresses, and mothers; 'Tis this that proudest dames enamours On lacqueys, and varlets-des-chambres; Their haughty stomachs overcomes, And makes 'em stoop to dirty grooms, To slight the world, and to disparage Claps, issue, infamy, and marriage. Quoth she, These judgments are severe, Yet such as I should rather bear, Than trust men with their oaths, or prove Their faith and secrecy in love. Says he, There is a weighty reason For secrecy in love as treason. Love is a burglarer, a felon, That in the windore-eye does steal in To rob the heart, and, with his prey, Steals out again a closer way, Which whosoever can discover, He's sure, as he deserves, to suffer. Love is a fire, that burns and sparkles In men, as naturally as in charcoals, Which sooty chemists stop in holes, When out of wood they extract coals; So lovers should their passions choke, That tho' they burn, they may not smoke.