Simplicitas pietate cadit, male credula sanctos
Perfusis halante mero gaudere sepulchris.[6a]
But yet that mirth in little feasts enjoy’d,
I think should ready absolution find;
Slight peccadillo of an erring mind,
Artless and rude, of all disguises void,
Their simple hearts too easy to believe
(Conscious of nothing ill) that saints in tombs
Enshrin’d should any happiness perceive
From quaffing cups, and wines ascending fumes,