To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess
O hell! to choose love with another's eye.
What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.
O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the Devil!
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.