Where oft honour splits her mast:
And retir'dnesse thinks the port,
Where her fame may anchor cast.
Vertue safely cannot sit,
Where vice is enthron'd for wit.
She holds that dayes pleasure best.
Where sinne waits not on delight.
Without maske, or ball, or feast,
Sweetly spends a winters night.
O're that darknesse, whence is thrust,