Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.
My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows, I am roughand lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite. No motion of the liver, but the palate
Report me and my cause aright.
Speak me fair in death.
Every thing that grows / Holds in perfection but a little moment.