Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable

Was never holloa'd to, nor cheer'd with horn.

Never did I hear

Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seem all one mutual cry: I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

HYPOCRISY.

There is no vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.

Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.

How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear upon their chins

The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars;
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk?

This outward-sainted deputy,Whose settled visage and deliberate word

Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth emmew,
As falcon doth the fowl,-is yet a devil.

Ah, that deceit should steel such gentle shapes,
And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice!

O, what authority and shew of truth
Can cunning sin cover itself withal !

When devils will their blackest sins put on,
They do suggest at first with heavenly shews.

So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue,
That, his apparent open guilt omitted-
He liv'd from all attainder of suspect.

If I do not put on a sober habit,

Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely;
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen;
Use all the observance of civility,

Like one well studied in a sad ostent

To please his grandam, never trust me more.

The devil can cite scripture for his purpose.
An evil soul, producing holy witness,
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek;
A goodly apple rotten at the heart :
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!

Gloster's show
Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers;
Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowering bank,
With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child,
That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent.

Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep;
And in his simple show he harbours treason.
The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb.
No, no, my sovereign; Gloster is a man
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.

I know thou art religious,

And hast a thing within thee, called conscience;
With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies,
Which I have seen thee careful to observe.

Away, and mock the time with fairest show;

False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted; Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint.

To beguile the time,

Look like the time; bear welcome in your eyes,

Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent

flower;

But be the serpent under it.

Assume a virtue, if you have it not.

That monster, custom, who all sense doth ape
Of devils' habits, is angel yet in this;
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock, or livery,

That aptly is put on.

Get thee glass eyes;

And, like a scurvy politician, seem

To see the things thou dost not.

They say, this town is full of cozenage;
'As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind,
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body:
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like libertines of sin.

How smooth and even they do bear themselves!
As if allegiance in their bosom sat,

Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty.

Shew men dutiful?

Why, so didst thou: or seem they grave and learned?

Why, so didst thou:
Why, so didst thou:

come they of noble family? seem they religious? Why, so didst thou or are they spare in diet, Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger; Constant in spirit, nor swerving with the blood;

Garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment;
Not working with the eye, without the ear,
And, but in purged judgment, trusting neither ?
Such, and so finely bolted, didst thou seem.

O, nature! what hadst thou to do in hell,
When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?—
Was ever book, containing such vile matter,
So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace!

O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!
Did every dragon keep so fair a cave?
Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!
Despised substance of divinesh show!
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st!

You are meek, and humble-mouth'd;
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
With meekness and humility: but your heart
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.

When my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For doves to peck at: I am not what I am.

But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil :
And thus I clothe my naked villainy

With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile :
And

cry, content, to that which grieves my heart;

And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,

And frame my face to all occasions.

Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian ;
Speak, and look back, and pry on every side,
Tremble and start at wagging of a straw,
Intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks
Are at my service, like enforced smiles;
And both are ready in their offices,
At any time, to grace my stratagems.

Though I do hate him as I do hell pains,
Yet, for necessity of present life,
I must shew out a flag and sign of love,
Which is indeed but sign.

O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog;

Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he bites, His venom tooth will rankle to the death:

Have not to do with him, beware of him

;

Sin, death, and hell, have set their marks on him ; And all their ministers attend on him.

We are at the stake,

And bay'd about with many enemies ;

And some that smile, have in their hearts, I fear,
Millions of mischief.

Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit :
And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,
And stand between two churchmen, good my lord;
For on that ground I'll make a holy descant :
And be not easily won to our requests;
Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it.

I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl:
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach,
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.

If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.