If man dies wholly, well may we demand,
Why is man suffer’d to be good in vain?
Why to be good in vain, is man enjoin’d? 180
Why to be good in vain, is man betray’d?
Betray’d by traitors lodged in his own breast,
By sweet complacencies from virtue felt?
Why whispers Nature lies on Virtue’s part?
Or if blind Instinct (which assumes the name
Of sacred conscience) plays the fool in man,
Why Reason made accomplice in the cheat?