Through tattered clothes great vices do appear; Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
Through tattered clothes great vices do appear; Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
Most dangerous is that temptation that doth goad us on to sin in loving virtue.
He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word
From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give,
And found it in thy cheek; he can afford
No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.
Her virtues, graced with external gifts,
Do breed love's settled passions in my heart;
And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts
Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide,
So am I driven by breath of her renown
Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive
Where I may have fruition of her love.
As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue,
Withal I did infer your lineaments,
Being the right idea of your father,
Both in your form and nobleness of mind;
Laid open all your victories in Scotland,
Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace,
Your bounty, virtue, fair humility;
Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose
Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse.
Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.
We rarely like the virtues we have not.
I say unto you, what he hath done famously he did it
to that end; though soft-conscienc'd men can be content to say it
was for his country, he did it to please his mother and to be
partly proud, which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue.
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
Kings are earth's gods in vice their law's their will.
I hate ingratitude more in a man Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness, Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood.
Is not birth, beauty, good
shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth,
liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man?
All friends shall taste
The wages of their virtue, and all foes
The cup of their deservings.
Virtue is beauty.
Perhaps he loves you now,
And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
The virtue of his will; but you must fear,
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
For he himself is subject to his birth.
Love her, Angelo;
I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue.
There is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a
glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of
it; he is melancholy without cause and merry against the hair; he
hath the joints of every thing; but everything so out of joint
that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use, or purblind
Argus, all eyes and no sight.
The rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance.
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our own virtues.
Farewell the tranquil mind farewell content; Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars; That make ambition virtue.
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?
I hate ingratitude more in a person than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or, any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood. Twelfth Night
The trumpet of his own virtues.
Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
There is a kind of character in thy life, That to the observer doth thy history Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
Virtue and genuine graces in themselves speak what no words can utter.
Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.
To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue.
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Upon the instant that she was accus'd,
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd
Of every hearer; for it so falls out
That what we have we prize not to the worth
Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost,
Why, then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue that possession would not show us
Whiles it was ours.
Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape,
And with a virtuous vizor hide deep vice!
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail, And say there is no sin, but to be rich And, being rich, my virtue then shall be, To say there is no vice, but beggary.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories