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Of freedom lost: Horace this thing

Saith well, ’tis worth remembering:

“Though any man should seize a fork,

To drive dame Nature from her work,

Beat her, and chase her out of doors,

She’ll quick return to pay old scores.”

What matters it? Do what you will,

Each living creature must fulfil

Its nature, and although you drive

It far, it will return and thrive;

Nature despiseth violence,

And hath of man-made law small sense:

And thus finds Venus fair excuse

When she from trammels breaketh loose;

And so it is with dames, I trow,

Who chafe beneath the marriage-vow.

Nature it is who draws them still

Towards freedom, or for good or ill,

And she so strong is that in vain

Men seek her power to curb and rein.

If one should take, dear son, a cat

That ne’er had known of mouse or rat,

And feed him up most tenderly

With choicest meats, nor let him see

By any chance or rat or mouse,

Yet if should run across the house

Or one or other in his view,

Like bolt from bow he’ll ’scape from you

And snap it up, for Nature ’tis

Impelleth him thereto ywis;

He’ll rather hunt a mouse than sate

His maw with morsels delicate,