_Cha._ I may do this
From what I've read Sir; for what concerns tillage?
Who better can deliver it than _Virgil_
In his _Georgicks_? and to cure your herds,
His _Bucolicks_ is a masterpeece; but when
He does discribe the Commonwealth of Bees,
Their industry and knowledge of the herbs,
From which they gather honey, with their care
To place it with _decorum_ in the Hive,
Their gover[n]ment among themselves, their order
In going forth and comming loaden home,
Their obedience to their King, and his rewards
To such as labour, with his punishments
Onely inflicted on the slothful Drone,
I'm ravished with it, and there reap my harvest,
And there receive the gaine my Cattle bring me,
And there find wax and honey. _Bri._ And grow rich
In your imagination; heyday heyday,
_Georgicks_, _Bucolicks_, and Bees! Art mad?
_Cha._ No Sir, the knowledge of these guards me from it.
_Bri._ But can you find among your bundle of bookes
(And put in all your Dictionaries that speak all tongu's)
What pleasure they enjoy, that do embrace
A well shap'd wealthy Bride? Answer me that.
_Cha._ Tis frequent Sir in story, there I read of
All kinde of vertuous and vitious women;
The ancient Spartan Dames, and Roman Ladyes,
Their beauties and deformities, and when
I light upon a _Portia_ or _Cornelia_,
Crown'd with still-flourishing leaves of truth and goodness,
With such a feeling I peruse their fortunes,
As if I then had liv'd, and freely tasted
Their ravishing sweetness; at the present loving
The whole sexe for their goodness and example.
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