Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker or a prodigal
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth she return,
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!
The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.
Must I hold a candle to my shames?
The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.