"Oh wearisome Condition of Humanity! Borne under one Law, to another, bound: Vainly begot, and yet forbidden vanity, Created sicke, commanded to be sound: What meaneth Nature by these diverse Lawes? Passion and Reason, self-division cause: Is it the marke, or Majestie of Power To make offences that it may forgive? Nature herselfe, doth her owne selfe defloure, To hate those errors she herselfe doth give. For how should man thinke that he may not doe If Nature did not faile, and punish too? Tyrant to others, to her selfe unjust, Onely commands things difficult and hard. Forbids us all things, which it knowes we lust, Makes easie paines, impossible reward. If Nature did not take delight in blood, She would have made more easie wayes to good. We that are bound by vowes, and by Promotion, With pompe of holy Sacrifice and rites, To teach beliefe in good and still devotion To preach of Heavens wonders, and delights: Yet when each of us, in his owne heart lookes, He finds the God there, farre unlike his Bookes."