When, spite of Conscience, pleasure is pursued,
Man’s nature is unnaturally pleased:
And what’s unnatural, is painful too
At intervals, and must disgust even thee!
The fact thou know’st; but not, perhaps, the cause.
Virtue’s foundations with the world’s were laid; 850
Heaven mix’d her with our make, and twisted close
Her sacred interests with the strings of life.
Who breaks her awful mandate, shocks himself,
His better self: and is it greater pain,