O' What may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.

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.

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven

Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well, Of one not easily jealous but, being wrought, Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand, Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinable gum. Set you down this, And say besides that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turbaned Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by th' throat the circumcised dog And smote him thus.

I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire.

My master hath been an honorable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have.