Like to good Angels, nothing can impaire:
'Tis lesse griefe to be foule, then to have beene faire.
For one nights revels, silke and gold we chuse,
But, in long journeyes, cloth, and leather use.
35Beauty is barren oft; best husbands say,
There is best land, where there is foulest way.
Oh what a soveraigne Plaister will shee bee,
If thy past sinnes have taught thee jealousie!
Here needs no spies, nor eunuches; her commit
40Safe to thy foes; yea, to a Marmosit.