To give, unwilling, is to pay a fine:
Nor is it alms to stop the beggar’s whine.
What use a priest to him, who cannot pray?
Or life’s elixir, when life’s passed away?
What worth a shameless woman, howso fair?
Or her embraces, if no love be there?
What use to live, nay rather why be born
To live the target of a dull world’s scorn?