He that stands upon a slippery place, makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up
Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege; The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.
No longer mourn for me when I am deadThan you shall hear the surly sullen bellGive warning to the world that I am fledFrom this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell.
Self-loving is not so vile a sin, my liege, as self-neglecting.
Self-love, is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting.
Was ever book containing such vile matterSo fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwellIn such a gorgeous palace!