[E’en humble] Cottages and Cells,
Where Innocence and Virtue dwells,
Than Courts no more secure can be
From Love and dangerous Flattery.
Love in rural Triumph reigns,
As much a God amongst the Swains,
As if the Sacrifices paid
Were wounded Hearts by Monarchs made:
And this might well excuse th’ Offence,
If it be so to love a Prince.