Lust carries her sharp whip At her own girdle.
The chiefest action for a man of great spirit is never to be out of action... the soul was never put into the body to stand still.
Though lust do masque in ne'er so strange disguise she's oft found witty, but is never wise.
Oh, yes, thy sins Do run before thee to fetch fire from hell, To light thee thither.
Lay this unto your breast: Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best.
Woman to man Is either a God or a wolfe.