They whom the rising blood tempts not to taste, Preserve a stock of love can never waste; When easy people who their wish enjoy, Like prodigals at once their wealth destroy. 10 Adam till now had stay'd in Paradise Had his desires been bounded by his eyes. When he did more than look, that made th' offence, And forfeited his state of innocence. Fruition therefore is the bane t' undo Both our affection and the subject too. 'Tis Love into worse language to translate, And make it into Lust degenerate: 'Tis to dethrone, and thrust it from the heart, To seat it grossly in the sensual part. 20 Seek for the star that 's shot upon the ground, And nought but a dim jelly there is found. Thus foul and dark our female stars appear, If fall'n or loos'ned once from Virtue's Sphere. Glow-worms shine only look'd on, and let lie, But handled crawl into deformity: So beauty is no longer fair and bright, Than whilst unstained by the appetite: And then it withers like a blasted flower, Some pois'nous worm or spider hath crept o'er. 30 Pygmalion's dotage on the carved stone, Shows amorists their strong illusion. Whilst he to gaze and court it was content, He serv'd as priest at Beauty's monument: But when by looser fires t' embraces led, It prov'd a cold hard statue in his bed. Irregular affects, like madmen's dreams Presented by false lights and broken beams, So long content us, as no near address Shows the weak sense our painted happiness. 40 But when those pleasing shadows us forsake, Or of the substance we a trial make, Like him, deluded by the fancy's mock, We shipwrack 'gainst an alabaster rock. What though thy mistress far from marble be? Her softness will transform and harden thee. Lust is a snake, and Guilt the Gorgon's head, Which Conscience turns to stone, and Joys to lead. Turtles themselves will blush, if put to name The act, whereby they quench their am'rous flame. 50 Who then that 's wise or virtuous, would not fear To catch at pleasures which forbidden were, When those which we count lawful, cannot be Requir'd without some loss of modesty? Ev'n in the marriage-bed, where soft delights Are customary and authoriz'd rites; What are those tributes to the wanton sense, But toleration of Incontinence? For properly you cannot call that Love Which does not from the soul, but humour move. 60 Thus they who worship'd Pan or Isis' Shrine, By the fair front judg'd all within divine: Though ent'ring, found 'twas but a goat or cow To which before their ignorance did bow. Such temples and such goddesses are these Which foolish lovers and admirers please: Who if they chance within the shrine to pry, Find that a beast they thought a Deity. Nor makes it only our opinion less