He much rejoiced, and thought his fortune made;
Yet felt aspiring pleasure at the sight,
And for increase, increasing appetite;
Desire of profit idle habits check’d
(For Fulham’s virtue was to be correct);
He and his Conscience had their compact made -
“Urge me with truth, and you will soon persuade;
But not,” he cried, “for mere ideal things
Give me to feel those terror-breeding stings.”
“Let not such thoughts,” she said, “your mind confound;