Who has a book of all that monarchs do,
He's more secure to keep it shut than shown;
For vice repeated is like the wand'ring wind,
Blows dust in others' eye, to spread itself;
And yet the end of all is bought thus dear,
The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear
To stop the air would hurt them.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
We are double-edged blades, and every time we whet our virtue the return stroke straps our vice.
We are double-edged blades, and every time we whet our virtue the return stroke straps our vice.
We make a ladder for ourselves of our vices, if we trample those
same vices underfoot.
[Lat., De read more
We make a ladder for ourselves of our vices, if we trample those
same vices underfoot.
[Lat., De vitiis nostris scalam nobis facimus, si vitia ipsa
calcamus.]
To sanction Vice, and hunt Decorum down.
To sanction Vice, and hunt Decorum down.
Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast;
But shall the dignity of vice be lost?
Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast;
But shall the dignity of vice be lost?
Our faith comes in moments; our vice is habitual.
Our faith comes in moments; our vice is habitual.
Music is the only sensual pleasure without vice
Music is the only sensual pleasure without vice
Wild oats make a bad autumn crop.
Wild oats make a bad autumn crop.
Vice gets more in this vicious world
Than piety.
Vice gets more in this vicious world
Than piety.
O, what a mansion have those vices got
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
Where beauty's read more
O, what a mansion have those vices got
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot
And all things turns to fair that eyes can see!
