Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano!
Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition
She's gone. I am abused, and my relief must be to loathe her.
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.
Policy sits above conscience.