Men, that would blush at being thought sincere,
And feign, for glory, the few faults they want;
That love a lie, where truth would pay as well;
As if to them, Vice shone her own reward.
Lorenzo! canst thou bear a shocking sight? 289
Such, for Florello’s sake, ’twill now appear:
See, the steel’d files of season’d veterans,
Train’d to the world, in burnish’d falsehood bright;
Deep in the fatal stratagems of peace;
All soft sensation, in the throng, rubb’d off;