Quotes About Hypocrisy

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile;Filths savor but themselves.

No; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,And crook the pregnant hinges of the kneeWhere thrift may follow fawning.

Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;Robes and furr'd 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.

O father Abram! what these Christians are,Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspectThe thoughts of others.

Thieves for their robbery have authority When judges steal themselves.

And thus I clothe my naked villanyWith odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ,And seem a saint when most I play the devil.

How like a fawning publican he looks!I hate him for he is a Christian.

You are pictures out of doors,Bells in your parlors, wildcats in your kitchens,Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.

To show an unfelt sorrow is an officeWhich the false man does easy.

Away, and mock the time with fairest show:False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

Look like the innocent flower,But be the serpent under 't.

God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another.

There are a sort of men whose visagesDo cream and mantle like a standing pond.

With devotion's visageAnd pious action we do sugar o'erThe devil himself.

And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stolen forth of Holy Writ And seem a saint when most I play the devil.

O! what authority and show of truthCan cunning sin cover itself withal.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.

'Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.

With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May.

O! what a rogue and peasant slave am I.

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

O, what a world of vile ill-favor'd faultsLooks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!

A goodly apple rotten at the heart.O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!

All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten and discharging less than the tenth part of one.