So may the outward shows be least themselves: The world is still deceived with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What damned error, but some sober brow Will bless it and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth.

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.

In thy face I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty.

O King, believe not this hard-hearted man!

Take it in what sense thou wilt.

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.