Lust that makes blind the reason; lust that makes
A devil's self seem angel to our eyes;
A cataract that, carrying havoc with it,
Confounds the prosperous house; a road of mire
Where whoso falls he rises not again;
A wine of which whoever tastes shall see
Redemption's face no more--one little sip
Of that delicious and unlawful drink,
Making crave much, and hanging round the palate
Till it become a ring to lead thee by
(Putting the rope in a vain woman's hand),
Till thou thyself go down the Way of Nothing.