She still hath Hope enough to ease her paynes;
That Hope, which keepeth off, all Feare and Shame:
For, 'tis not Hunger, Cold, nor Fire, nor Steele,
Nor all the Scornes or Slanders, we can heare,
Nor any Torment, which our Flesh can feele,
That conquers us; but, our owne Trayt'rous Feare.
Where, Honest Mindes, and Patient Hearts, are Mates
They grow victorious, in their Hardest-Fates.