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 IV.

Virtue! Alas, now let me take some rest. Thou sett'st a bate between my will and wit: If vain love have my simple soul opprest; Leave what thou lik'st not! deal not thou with it Thy sceptre use in some old CATO's breast: Churches or schools are for thy seat more fit. I do confess, pardon a fault confest! My mouth too tender is for thy hard bit. But if that needs thou wilt usurping be The little reason that is left in me; And still th'effect of thy persuasions prove: I swear my heart, such one shall show to thee, That shrines in flesh so true a deity; That VIRTUE! thou thyself shalt be in love!

V.

It is most true—that eyes are formed to serve The inward light; and that the heavenly part Ought to be King; from whose rules, who doth swerve, (Rebels to Nature) strive for their own smart: It is most true—what we call CUPID's dart, An image is; which for ourselves we carve, And, fools! adore, in temple of our heart; Till that good GOD make church and churchman starve: True—that true beauty, Virtue is indeed; Whereof this beauty can be but a shade, Which elements with mortal mixture breed: True—that on earth, we are but pilgrims made; And should in soul, up to our country move: True—and yet true, that I must STELLA love.