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: