Which on a virgin’s body but sets off
The dazzling flesh, that else were self-extinguished
In its own fairness.—Yet by these flecks and flaws,
Whate’er they be, ’tis fated that men fall:
And thus may I, nay must; unless in time
I heed good warning, for my fault is gross.
I am over-generous; yes; ye say it; I know it.
That is my flaw. It is because my schemes
Are wider than his own, that Seneca hates me:
Because the world hath tasted more of freedom