Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile; Filths savour but themselves.
All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told.
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly.
Temptation: the fiend at my elbow.
A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart.