To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,
From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
You may as well spread out the unsunned heaps
Of miser’s treasure by an outlaw’s den,
And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 400
Danger [will wink on Opportunity],
And let a single helpless maiden pass
Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste.
Of night or loneliness [it recks me not];
I fear the dread events that dog them both, 405