The best is most diffusive Good.
She that confines her Beams to one Mans sight,
Is a Dark Lanthorn to a Shining Light.
Say, Does the Virgin Spring less Chaste appear,
'Cause many Thirsts are quenched there?
Or have you not with the same Odours met,
When more then One have smelt your Violet
The _Phoenix_ is not angry at her nest,
'Cause her Perfumes makes others Blest:
Tho' Incense to th' Immortal Gods be meant,
Yet Mortals rival in the Scent.
Man is the Lord of Creatures; yet we see
That all his Vassals Loves are free;
The severe Wedlock-Fetters do not bind
The Pard's inflam'd and Am'rous Mind,
But that he may be like a Bridegroom led
Ev'n to the Royal Lion's Bed.
The Birds made for a Year their Loves Confine,
But make new Choice each Valentine.
If our Affections then more servile be
Than are our Slaves, where's Mans Sov'raignity?
Why then by pleasing more, should you less please,
And spare your sweets, being more sweet than these?
If the fresh Trunk have Sap enough to give,
That each insertive Branch may live;
The Gardner grafts not only _Apples_ there,
But adds the _Warden_ and the _Pear_;
The _Peach_ and _Apricock_ together grow,
The _Cherry_ and the _Damson_ too;
Till he hath made, by Skilful Husbandry,