Adventureth to climbe up hollow Trees,
And from their Cells, the well fill'd Combes he drawes:
Right so, the Sensuall-Man that he may gaine
His bruitish Lust, a thousand perills dares;
And, that his Lawlesse-will he may attaine,
Nor Conscience, Credit, Cost, nor Labour spares.
'Twere shamefull basenesse, therefore, if that he
Who knoweth Vertue, and is thought her Lover,
Should so by any Perills frighted bee,
To make him such Affections to give-over.