And few be they that rest uncaught, for many a twig is limed;
Where is the wise among a million, that took not form for beauty?
But watch it well; for vanity and sin, malice, hate, suspicion,
Louring as clouds upon the countenance, will disenchant its charms.
The needful complexity of beauty claimeth mind and soul,
Though many coins of foul alloy pass current for the true:
And albeit fairness in the creature shall often co-exist with excellence,
Yet hath many an angel shape been tenanted by fiends.
A man, spiritually keen, shall detect in surface beauty
Those marring specks of evil which the sensual cannot see;