What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.

Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?

I may not here omit those two main plagues, and common dotages of human kind, wine and women, which have infatuated and besotted myriads of people: they go commonly together.

Temptations hurt not, though they have accesse; Satan o'ercomes none but by willingnesse.

Why comes temptation but for man to meet/ And master and make crouch beneath his foot, / And so be pedestaled in triumph?

There is nothing in the whole frame of man which seems to me so unaccountable as that thing called conscience.