Temptation is the fire that brings up the scum of the heart.

He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf.

A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm

Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't.

I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his, And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.

In time we hate that which we often fear.