Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2.
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute.
Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 3.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes: