Quotes About Temptation

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

'Tis the strumpet's plagueTo beguile many and be beguil'd by one.

'Tis a naughty night to swim in.

The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida.

Sir Toby: Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?Clown: Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too.

And sometimes we are devils to ourselvesWhen we will tempt the frailty of our powers,Presuming on their changeful potency.

A politician… one that would circumvent God.

Fie, fie upon her!There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look outAt every joint and motive of her body.

Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man.

A woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.

The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded flyDoes lecher in my sight.Let copulation thrive.

See, sons, what things you are!How quickly nature falls into revoltWhen gold becomes her object!

Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-color'd taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling Commodity,Commodity, the bias of the world.

How oft the sight of means to do ill deedsMakes ill deeds done!

O thou invisible spirit of wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!

No man's pie is freedFrom his ambitious finger.

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,Will sate itself in a celestial bed,And prey on garbage.

With devotion's visageAnd pious action we do sugar o'erThe devil himself.

O! thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a saint.

The primrose way to the everlasting bonfire.

Age cannot wither her, nor custom staleHer infinite variety; other women cloyThe appetites they feed, but she makes hungryWhere most she satisfies; for vilest thingsBecome themselves in her, that the holy priestsBless her when she is riggish.

I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.

Saint-seducing gold.