XLIII.

Hail, fair virgin, a nose among the larger, Feet not dainty, nor eyes to match a raven, Mouth scarce tenible, hands not wholly faultless, Tongue most surely not absolute refinement, Bankrupt Formian, your declar'd devotion. 5 Thou the beauty, the talk of all the province? Thou my Lesbia tamely think to rival? O preposterous, empty generation!