Classic Poem

PROTEUS
Come, noble nymphs, and do not hide
The joys, for which you so provide:
SARON

If not to mingle with the men,
What do you here? Go home again.
PORTUNUS

Your dressings do confess
By what we see, so curious parts
Of Pallas' and Arachne's arts,
That you could mean no less.
PROTEUS

Why do you wear the silk-worm's toils,
Or glory in the shell-fish spoils,
Or strive to show the grains of ore
That you have gathered on the shore,
Whereof to make a stock
To graft the greener emerald on,
Or any better-watered stone?
SARON

Or ruby of the rock?
PROTEUS

Why do you smell of ambergris,
Of which was formèd Neptune's niece,
The queen of love; unless you can,
Like sea-born Venus, love a man?
SARON

Try, put yourselves unto it.
CHORUS

Your looks, your smiles, and thoughts that meet,
Ambrosian hands and silver feet,
Do promise you will do it.
(from Neptune's Triumph)