Wer.‍Me he hath ever known,140

And hunted through each change of time—name—fortune—

And why not you? Are you more versed in men?

He wound snares round me; flung along my path

Reptiles, whom, in my youth, I would have spurned

Even from my presence; but, in spurning now,

Fill only with fresh venom. Will you be

More patient? Ulric!—Ulric!—there are crimes

Made venial by the occasion, and temptations

Which nature cannot master or forbear.[180]