SENSUALITY

Let mine eyes first gaze Upon his figure. It's a heavenly creature, And worthy my embraces, I have yet Conversed with earthy shapes, the baser issue Of that gross element, but here's a form Mingled with fire, that moves the soul of sense, And kindles passion in me. What was she Durst aim to prepossess her self of him My mouth can only challenge? Welcome sir. If my expressions suit not entertainment Of such a guest, creation must be blamed That gave none other; for what ere in nature Is found that can affect you, here it's stored; And shall be a l exhausted to declare How much I love you. O'pe my treasury, And let it waste to emptiness. Wilt please Thine eyes? We'll mount a Chariot made of diamonds, Who e lights reflection shall create a day In the C mmerian valleis. From some height We will survey the earth, and where weak beams Cannot extend themselves, we'll have and optic Shall show us in and instant all the hemisphere. We'll see the fair Arcadian Virgins hunt In their Parthenian groves. We'll count the beasts Lurk in Hucanias dens; number the pines That crown Lycaus. Would thine cares be blessed With pleasing sounds? The ayery Choristers Shall strain their throats by art, and harmony Call down the spheres to make her consort up. For thy smell Saba shall be translated where thou goest, And strew thy path with spices. Panthers skins Shall be thy couch, and amber pave the floor Where thy foot treads. This breath's perfume enough To create a Phoenix, Wouldst delight thy taste? Then Samlan Peacocks, and Ambracian Kid , Henns of Numidia, Pheasants, Phenicopters, Ta tell and Lamprayes; Eels of Benacus, Cockles of Luc ne; Eleusinian Plaise Shall fill thy dish, and thousand changes more To wh to new appetite. Shalt drink no wine But what all r us or Calabrian Aulon Y eld from their grapes. Shalt sleep upon a bed of purest down, Driven from white necks of Caysters Swans, And Peneus par owes. With Assyrian silks cloth high body. A livelyer music, come sweet heart we'll dance. How does my sweetheart Like it? I do not with and Oh conomick strictness Observe my servants, and direct their actions: Pleasure is free. But what sad object's this? Laugh at her sweet heart, Thou art secure in the e embraces. 'Tis but her envy to me. Let's in to feast, and revel; and at night Shalt be possessed of a more full delight. Exeunt. This Physander! I know him not. The bloody spectacle Is too offensive: Would it were removed. Let me have Another sweet heart one whose lusty heat May warm my bosom. Gather all the flowers Tempe is painted with, and strew his way. Translate my Bower to Turias rosy banks, There, with a Chorus of sweet nightingales Make it continual Spring. If the Suns rays Offend his tender skin, and make it sweat, Fan him with silken wings of mildest air; Breathed by Etesian winds. The briskest Nectar Shall be his drink, and all the Ambrosian cates, Art can devise for wanton appetite. Furnish his banquet. As his senses tire, Vary the object. Let delights be linked, So in a circled chain no end we see, Pleasure is only my eternity. Exeunt Into what misery hath riot Brought my decayed state? While I had the means To purchase pleasures, all delights were sold me. Those gone, necessity and lust then made me A mercenary prostitute, and since By the gradation of a wanton life, I'm fallen to this. Want and a loathsome sickness Make me reflect; nor can I but accuse my self At Conscience bar, but not with penitence; That's still in opposition with my will, Now custom hath confirmed me in all ill. Exeunt. A desperate piece of neglected mortality, that have been a Lady of pleasure, and kep and open house where Lords took me up at high rates, Till my bore commons would no longer serve their high feeding. I thence fell to inferior customers, and doted most on the junior actors, to the danger of cracking many a voice. Nightwalking then supplied me, whilst I had any thing to pleasure a constable, or relieve the mortified watch with a snatch and away. But now I am not worth the reversion of and almsbasket: and those which heretofore would hire me to sin, do now de nigh me the benefit of a Spittle. I have not strength to climb and hang my self; and having been so light all my life time it's impossible I should be drowned. e with thee to that place where horrors fright The guilty conscience with eternal night. Exit. My mending must be miraculous. Were it in art to repair this rotten carcase, and in my stock of credit with the broker enough to case it, I might hope for as golden days and coaching again. But now well come a cart or a Shrove-tuesdays tragedy. Despair tells me there is a fire in hell, and why should I, that have conversed with heats all my life time, fear it!