And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire, The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmasks her beauty to the moon.

I had rather be a toad, and live upon the vapor of a dungeon than keep a corner in the thing I love for others uses.

And what’s he then that says I play the villain?

Preferred three hours quicker over one moment late.

Full many a glorious morn I have seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.

This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it.

The worm is not to be trusted.