Nor lock up virtues in the paper-jail
190With ink-horns, pens, spheres, globes, and Albo-globes.
Religion on my heart does love enneal
To those bright tapers of our commonweal.
Yet where, instead of state, proud looks do dwell,
Where wit and wisdom are unlocked with oaths,
Courtship and comeliness are in the shell,
And honour only sits upon the clothes.
Pardon, if unto such I plait my brow,
And steer my thought unto a virgin-vow.'