As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.
The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.
He look'd in years, yet in his years were seen A youthful vigor, and autumnal green.
There is a proud modesty in merit.
The perverseness of my fate is such that he's not mine because he's mine too much.
Fattened in vice, so callous and so gross, he sins and sees not, senseless of his loss.