Cyn monologue (Act 5) — Cynthia's Revels; Or, The Fountain of Self-Love

Else, noble Arete, they would not blame, And tax, or for unjust, or for as proud, Thy Cynthia, in the things which are indeed The greatest glories in our starry crown; Such is our chastity, which safely scorns, Not love, for who more fervently doth love Immortal honour, and divine renown? But giddy Cupid, Venus' frantic son. Yet, Arete, if by this veiled light We but discover'd (what we not discern) Any the least of imputations stand Ready to sprinkle our unspotted fame With note of lightness, from these revels near: Not, for the empire of the universe, Should night, or court, this whatsoever shine, Or grace of ours, unhappily enjoy. Place and occasion are two privy thieves; And from poor innocent ladies often steal The best of things, an honourable name; To stay with follies, or where faults may be, Infers a crime, although the party free.