Where he might safely live at ease,
Has lusts that are immoderate.
For he, by those desires misled, 45
Quits his own vine’s securing shade,
To’ expose his naked, empty head
To all the storms man’s peace invade.
Nor is he happy who is trim,
Tricked up in favours of the fair, 50
Mirrors, with every breath made dim.
Birds, caught in every wanton snare.