Book IV, 31: On MALFIDO

Sathans Injections are like Weeds that fall
Into thy Garden, darted ore the Wall,
Whose loathsom smel unscent thy sweeter Flow'rs;
But grow not there, unles we make them ours:
They'l dye, neglected; If thou lend them roome,
They'l stink; But eas'ly thrown from whence they come:
Feare not, Malfido; those they be that spoyle
Thy Flow'rs, that suck their substance from the soyle.