_Look in a garden croft, when a flower privily growing, &c._
_Opinion._ Look how a flower that close in closes grows,
Hid from rude cattle, bruised with no ploughs,
Which th' air doth stroke, sun strengthen, showers shoot higher,
It many youths and many maids desire;
The same, when cropt by cruel hand 'tis wither'd,
No youths at all, no maidens have desired;
So a virgin while untouch'd she doth remain
Is dear to hers; but when with body's stain
Her chaster flower is lost, she leaves to appear
Or sweet to young men or to maidens dear.
_Truth._ Virgins, O Virgins, to sweet Hymen yield,
For as a lone vine in a naked field
Never extols her branches, never bears
Ripe grapes, but with a headlong heaviness wears
Her tender body, and her highest sprout
Is quickly levell'd with her fading root;
By whom no husbandmen, no youths will dwell;
But if by fortune she be married well,
To the elm her husband, many husbandmen
And many youths inhabit by her then;
So whilst a virgin doth untouch'd abide,
All unmanur'd she grows old with her pride;
But when to equal wedlock, in fit time,
Her fortune and endeavour lets her climb,
Dear to her love and parents she is held.
Virgins, O Virgins, to sweet Hymen yield.
BEN JONSON, _The Barriers_.