What does it matter if, by chance, a little vile blood be spilled?
I have pushed virtue to outright brutality.
Without money honor is merely a disease.
My death, taking the light from my eyes, gives back to the day the purity which they soiled.
I loved you when you were unfaithful; what would I have done if you were true?
A noble heart cannot suspect in others the pettiness and malice that it has never felt.