The soul then loves that disposition best
Because no better comes unto her view.
The drunkard drunkennesse, the sluggard rest,
Th’ Ambitious honour and obeisance due.
So all the rest do love their vices base
’Cause virtues beauty comes not into place.
And looser love ’gainst Chastitie divine
Would shut the door that he might sit alone.
Then wholly should my mind to him incline:
And woxen strait, (since larger love was gone)