Love to faults is always blind, Always is to joy inclin’d, Lawless, wing’d & unconfin’d, And breaks all chains from every mind. Deceit to secrecy confin’d, Lawful, cautious & refin’d, To every thing but interest blind, And forges fetters for the mind.
There souls of men are bought and sold, And milk-fed Infancy for gold; And Youth to slaughter-houses led, And Beauty, for a bit of bread.