“Has virtue, then, no joys?”—Yes, joys dear-bought.
Talk ne’er so long, in this imperfect state,
Virtue and vice are at eternal war,
Virtue’s a combat; and who fights for nought?
Or for precarious, or for small reward?
Who virtue’s self-reward so loud resound, 243
Would take degrees angelic here below,
And virtue, while they compliment, betray,
By feeble motives, and unfaithful guards.
The crown, th’ unfading crown, her soul inspires: