Poem by Robert Herrick

To His Conscience

Can I not sin, but thou wilt be
My private protonotary?
Can I not woo thee, to pass by
A short and sweet iniquity?
I'll cast a mist and cloud upon
My delicate transgression,
So utter dark, as that no eye
Shall see the hugg'd impiety.
Gifts blind the wise, and bribes do please
And wind all other witnesses;
And wilt not thou with gold be tied,
To lay thy pen and ink aside,
That in the mirk and tongueless night,
Wanton I may, and thou not write?
—It will not be:  And therefore, now,
For times to come, I'll make this vow;
From aberrations to live free:
So I'll not fear the judge, or thee.

1. An Ode of the Birth of Our Saviour
2. Upon a Crooked Maid
3. The Dirge of Jephthah's Daughter: Sung by the Virgins
4. The Widows' Tears; or, Dirge of Dorcas
5. Upon His Sister-in-Law, Mistress Elizabeth Herrick

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