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60 This Silenus, Big-bellied, coarse, still deems himself a peril— A danger to the love of lovely ladies, And, while he sputters out his actor's part, Makes sheep's eyes at their boxes—goggling frog! I hate him since the evening he presumed To raise his eyes to here… Meseemed I saw

A slug crawl slavering o'er a flower's petals!

How now? What? Can it be…?

That I should love?…

I love.

And may I know?… You never said…

Come now, bethink you!… The fond hope to be Belovèd, e'en by some poor graceless lady, Is, by this nose of mine for aye bereft me; —This lengthy nose which, go where'er I will, Pokes yet a quarter-mile ahead of me; But I may love,—and whom? 'Tis Fate's decree I love the fairest—how were 't otherwise?

The fairest?…