[5738] “Lumina sint Melitae Junonia, dextra Minervae,
        Mamillae Veneris, sura maris dominae,” &c.

Let [5739]her head be from Prague, paps out of Austria, belly from France, back from Brabant, hands out of England, feet from Rhine, buttocks from Switzerland, let her have the Spanish gait, the Venetian tire, Italian compliment and endowments: 

[5740] “Candida sideriis ardescant lumina flammis,
        Sudent colla rosas, et cedat crinibus aurum,
        Mellea purpurem depromant ora ruborem;
        Fulgeat, ac Venerem coelesti corpore vincat,
        Forma dearum omnis,” &c.

Let her be such a one throughout, as Lucian deciphers in his Imagines, as Euphranor of old painted Venus, Aristaenetus describes Lais, another Helena, Chariclea, Leucippe, Lucretia, Pandora; let her have a box of beauty to repair herself still, such a one as Venus gave Phaon, when he carried her over the ford; let her use all helps art and nature can yield; be like her, and her, and whom thou wilt, or all these in one; a little sickness, a fever, small-pox, wound, scar, loss of an eye, or limb, a violent passion, a distemperature of heat or cold, mars all in an instant, disfigures all; child-bearing, old age, that tyrant time will turn Venus to Erinnys; raging time, care, rivels her upon a sudden; after she hath been married a small while, and the black ox hath trodden on her toe, she will be so much altered, and wax out of favour, thou wilt not know her.  One grows to fat, another too lean, &c., modest Matilda, pretty pleasing Peg, sweet-singing Susan, mincing merry Moll, dainty dancing Doll, neat Nancy, jolly Joan, nimble Nell, kissing Kate, bouncing Bess, with black eyes, fair Phyllis, with fine white hands, fiddling Frank, tall Tib, slender Sib, &c., will quickly lose their grace, grow fulsome, stale, sad, heavy, dull, sour, and all at last out of fashion. Ubi jam vultus argutia, suavis suavitatio, blandus, risus, &c.  Those fair sparkling eyes will look dull, her soft coral lips will be pale, dry, cold, rough, and blue, her skin rugged, that soft and tender superficies will be hard and harsh, her whole complexion change in a moment, and as [5741]Matilda writ to King John.

       “I am not now as when thou saw’st me last,
        That favour soon is vanished and past;
        That rosy blush lapt in a lily vale,
        Now is with morphew overgrown and pale.”

’Tis so in the rest, their beauty fades as a tree in winter, which Dejanira hath elegantly expressed in the poet,

[5742] “Deforme solis aspicis truncis nemus? 
        Sic nostra longum forma percurrens iter,
        Deperdit aliquid semper, et fulget minus,
        Malisque minus est quiquid in nobis fuit,
        Olim petitum cecidit, et partu labat,
        Maturque multum rapuit ex illa mihi,
        Aetas citato senior eripuit gradu.”