Judge

May one be pardon'd, and retain th' offence In the corrupted currents of this world, Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice: And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above: There, is no shuffling; there, the action lies In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd, Ev'n to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence.

—For in a government Th' offence is greatest in the instrument That hath the pow'r to punish; and in laws The author's trespass makes the foulest cause.