“O' what may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!”
“He who the sword of heaven will bearShould be as holy as severe;Pattern in himself to know,Grace to stand, and virtue go;More nor less to others payingThan by self-offences weighing.Shame to him whose cruel strikingKills for faults of his own liking!Twice treble shame on Angelo,To weed my vice and let his grow!O, what may man within him hide,Though angel on the outward side!How may likeness made in crimes,Making practise on the times,To draw with idle spiders' stringsMost ponderous and substantial things!Craft against vice I must apply:With Angelo to-night shall lieHis old betrothed but despised;So disguise shall, by the disguised,Pay with falsehood false exacting,And perform an old contracting.”
“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 browWill bless it and approve it with a text,Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?There is no vice so simple but assumesSome mark of virtue on his outward parts.”
“What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night,So stumblest on my counsel?*Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*”
“What piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a god! The beauty of the world. The paragon of animals. And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”
“What a piece of work is a man! How noble in Reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an Angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; no, nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you seem to say so.”