Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
That's the error of our ambition, that while we take our aim at admiration, by publicness and common flattery, we miss that repute among the wisest, which our beauties not prostituted would infallibly merit; because every thing, though less perfect, yet less common, is more admired, as we see in the Sun and a Comet. You are Bookish still: and I'll stand to it yet, there's no woman but loves them both: and therefore being natural to our Sex, why should it be termed unnaturalness in us, to cherish beauty, or wish the perfection of civil men's amiable society, when that ever begets love, and love is ever seconded with flattery. I like a Wench that's pure metal, and spirit, and the very foul of her kind; that when a Lord wantons her, will forsake her home, give off her father and competent means to the poor of the Parish; stick to the City, like a Prodigal to the Counter, that cannot be drawn out by all the friends, he has; lives clearly by her wits, yet reasonable honest too and all to be flattered. Such Camilla be the disgrace of their Sex: whose appetites change with variety; and taint the general name of women with the vicious note of inconstancy. That's the folly of men, to term inconstancy vicious in us, for were they not so prone to wrong us, they would ne'er expect it, but know that to be too constant to them, were to be too disloyal to ourselves, which I hope ne'er came nigh a woman's wit. Yet it is the perfection of virtue to lose by the exercise. By the pleasures of change, I swear this constancy is a mortal sin, and not a virtue in any of us. A sin! and mortal! A sin, and most mortal, because most against nature, and brings many of us to lead Apes in Hell. To lose the sweets of youth, the very Nectar of Nature, and frustrate the end of our Creation; can this be less than a mortal sin? 'Tis a work of merit, and they be Saints worthy to have their names written upon the Altar of Chastity. 'Tis beloved of Heaven, and sometimes fortunately rewarded here. As for example— myself you mean. I am no Divine, spite of the time I must speak my thoughts. Why then 'tis ay, Why then 'tis you: would any woman breathing, that had her 5 senses, and no red head, no blue lips nor raw Nose, no desperate fortunes, nor cracked reputation, but walked upright in the face of the world, and in the April of her age, so devote herself to one, that she must undergo these miseries, when by renouncing him, she may underlie so many commodities? To turn Savage here, and hold conference with none but hills and sheep, when she might have variety of fashions, wits, and breathes to Court her at home. I protest I would love over a whole Playhouse of Gallants first.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Thats the errour of our ambition, that while wee take our ayme at admiration, by publikeneſſe and common flattery, we miſſe that repute among the wiſeſt, which our beauties not proſtituted would infallibly merit; becauſe every thing, though leſſe perfect, yet leſſe common, is more admired, as we ſee in the Sunne and a Comet. You are Bookiſh ſtill: and Ile ſtand to it yet, there's no woman but loves them both: and therefore being naturall to our Sex, why ſhould it bee tearmed unnaturalneſſe in us, to cheriſh beautie, or wiſh the perfection of civill mens amiable ſocietie, when that ever begets love, and love is ever ſecōded with flattery. I like a Wench that's pure mettall, and ſpirit, and the very foule of her kinde; that when a Lord wantons her, will forſake her home, give off her father and competent meanes to the poore of the Pariſh; ſtick to the City, like a Prodigall to the Counter, that cannot be drawne out by all the friends, he has; lives clearely by her wits, yet reaſonable honeſt too and all to be flatter'd. Such Camilla be the diſgrace of their Sex: whoſe appetites change with varietie; and taint the generall name of women with the vicious note of inconſtancy. That's the folly of men, to terme inconſtancie vicious in us, for were they not ſo prone to wrong us, they would ne'r expect it, but know that to bee too conſtant to them, were to bee too diſloyall to our ſelves, which I hope ne'r came nigh a womans wit. Yet it is the perfection of vertue to loſe by the exerciſe. By the pleaſures of change, I ſweare this conſtancy is a mortall ſinne, and not a vertue in any of us. A ſinne! and mortall! A ſinn, and moſt mortall, becauſe moſt againſt nature, and brings many of us to lead Apes in Hell. To loſe the ſweets of youth, the very Nectar of Nature, and fruſtrate the end of our Creation; can this be leſſe than a mortall ſinne? 'Tis a worke of merit, and they be Saints worthy to have their names written upon the Altar of Chaſtity. 'Tis belov'd of Heaven, and ſometimes fortunately rewarded here. As for example— My ſelfe you meane. I am no Divine, ſpight of the time I muſt ſpeake my thoughts. Why then 'tis I, Why then 'tis you: would any woman breathing, that had her 5 ſenſes, and no red head, no blew lips nor raw Noſe, no deſperate fortunes, nor crackt reputatiō, but walk'd upright in the face of the world, and in the Aprill of her age, ſo devote her ſelfe to one, that ſhe muſt undergoe theſe miſeries, when by renouncing him, ſhee may underlie ſo many commodities? To turne Savage here, and hold conference with none but hils and ſheepe, when ſhe might have variety of faſhions, wits, and breathes to Court her at home. I proteſt I would love over a whole Play-houſe of Gallants firſt.