Book III, 46: On the old and new Garment

New Garments being brought, who is't that would
Not scorne to live a Pris'ner to the Old?
Yet though our bonteous Saviour, at his cost,
Presents us new, we love the old ones most:
Alas, they pinch us! O, they sit too strait!
They are too combersome! too great a waight!
No, no; the old were too too light, too great;
So we have ease, we care not to be neat:
Like tyred Jades, our better wils repayre
To a foule Stable, then t'a Rod that's faire.