Flings looks of stolen dalliance on my neighbour;
And honour by which gods are blest,
That, like a meteor, vanishes in air.
Show me the fruit that rots before ’tis broken,
And trees that day by day their green repair!
Mephistopheles.
A word of mighty meaning thou hast spoken,
Yet such commission makes not me despair.
Believe me, friend, we only need to try it,
And we too may enjoy our morsel sweet in quiet.