Proteus, Portunus, and Saron, Their Song to the Ladies

Pro. Come, noble nymphs, and do not hide
The joys for which you so provide.

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

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

Pro. Why do you wear the silk-worm's toils,
Or glory in the shellfish' 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?

Sar. Or ruby of the rock?

Pro. Why do you smell of amber-grise,
Of which was formed Neptune's niece,
The Queen of Love, unless you can,
Like sea-born Venus, love a man?

Sar. Try, pull yourselves unto 't.

Chorus. Your looks, your smiles, and thoughts that meet,
Ambrosian hands, and silver feet,
Do promise you will do 't.