I loved you when you were unfaithful; what would I have done if you were true?

Ah, why can't I know if I love, or if I hate?

Vice, like virtue, Grows in small steps, and no true innocence Can ever fall at once to deepest guilt.

The face of tyranny Is always mild at first.

The glory of my name increases my shame. Less known by mortals, I could better escape their eyes.

Do not they bring it to pass by knowing that they know nothing at all?

I have pushed virtue to outright brutality.