not vex to see how that the other sex hath learned to make anticks
and monsters of themselves? Whence come their (absurd fashions); but
the one from some ill-shaped dame of France, the other from the
worse-minded courtesans of Italy? Whence else learned they to daub
these mud-walls with apothecaries' mortar; and those high washes,
which are so cunningly licked on that the wet napkin of Phryne should
he deceived? Whence the frizzled and powdered bushes of their
borrowed hair? As if they were ashamed of the head of God's making,
and proud of the tire-woman's. Where learned we that devilish art
and practice of duel, wherein men seek honour in blood, and are
taught the ambition of being glorious butchers of men? Where had we
that luxurious delicacy in our feasts, in which the nose is no less
pleased than the palate, and the eye no less than either? wherein the
piles of dishes make barricadoes against the appetite, and with a
pleasing encumbrance trouble a hungry guest. Where those forms of
ceremonious quaffing, in which men have learned to make gods of
others and beasts of themselves, and lose their reason while they
pretend to do reason? Where the lawlessness (miscalled freedom) of a
wild tongue, that runs, with reins on the neck, through the
bedchambers of princes, their closets, their council tables, and
spares not the very cabinet of their breasts, much less can be barred
out of the most retired secrecy of inferior greatness? Where the
change of noble attendance and hospitality into four wheels and some
few butterflies? Where the art of dishonesty in practical
Machiavelism, in false equivocations? Where the slight account of
that filthiness which is but condemned as venial, and tolerated as
not unnecessary? Where the skill of civil and honourable hypocrisy
in those formal compliments which do neither expect belief from
others nor carry any from ourselves? Where' (and here Bishop Hall
begins to speak concerning things on which we must be silent, as of