Who has a book of all that monarchs do,
He's more secure to keep it shut than shown;
read more

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.

Ne'er blush'd, unless, in spreading vice's snares,
She blunder'd on some virtue unawares.

Ne'er blush'd, unless, in spreading vice's snares,
She blunder'd on some virtue unawares.

Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we read more

Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame.

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

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

Music is the only sensual pleasure without vice

Music is the only sensual pleasure without vice

This is the essential evil of vice, that it debases man.

This is the essential evil of vice, that it debases man.

Times change. The vices of your age are stylish today.

Times change. The vices of your age are stylish today.

Our faith comes in moments; our vice is habitual.

Our faith comes in moments; our vice is habitual.

Wild oats make a bad autumn crop.

Wild oats make a bad autumn crop.