I'd rather be myself, to wear my knees
Fleshless with grovelling before my kind,
Wherefrom returns the image of a mind
Dimly augmented by nobilities,
Than own eleven silver palaces,
If, among all my vassals, I could find
No thief, or beggar lame and halt and blind,
But soiled my velvet with his dust and fleas.

I'd rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman: O, I'd rather be
The unforgiven sinner on the Tree,
Or Peter, turned unfaithful at a pinch,
Than thrust red Lucifer, lost and overthrown,
Hell-deeper by the fraction of an inch!