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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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As low as to the fiends!

 Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, But if black scandal or foul-fac'd reproach Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong. What, can the devil speak true? And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself Pick your Real Live Girl WebFeed!! The devil take thy soul! If damned custom have not braz'd it so Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out 
  • Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
 Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! 
Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen,--
 
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
 But the plain devil and dissembling looks, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend Villain, thou knowest nor law of God nor man: Tell them that God bids us do good for evil: With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain! Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make 
  • Stoops to his base; and with a hideous crash