Hath Nature (strange and wild conceit of Pride)
Distinguish'd thee from all her sons beside?
Doth Virtue in thy bosom brighter glow,
Or from a Spring more pure doth Action flow?
Is not thy Soul bound with those very chains
Which shackle us, or is that SELF, which reigns
O'er Kings and Beggars, which in all we see
Most strong and sov'reign, only weak in Thee?
Fond man, believe it not; Experience tells
'Tis not thy Virtue, but thy Pride rebels.
Think, and for once lay by thy lawless pen;
Think, and confess thyself like other men;
Think but one hour, and, to thy Conscience led
By Reason's hand, bow down and hang thy head;
Think on thy private life, recal thy Youth,
View thyself now, and own with strictest truth,
That SELF hath drawn Thee from fair Virtue's way
Farther than Folly would have dar'd to stray,
And that the talents lib'ral Nature gave
To make thee free, have made thee more a slave.