LOK.

The Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
An evil soul, producing holy witness,
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,
A goodly apple rotten at the heart.
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
_Merchant of Venice, Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

But then I sigh, and with a piece of Scripture
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
And thus I clothe my naked villany
With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ,
And seem a saint when most I play the devil.
_King Richard III., Act i. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

O villain, villain, smiling damned villain!
My tables,--meet it is I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
_Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5_. SHAKESPEARE.

That practised falsehood under saintly shew,
Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

Built God a church, and laughed his word to scorn.
_Retirement_. W. COWPER.

And the devil did grin, for his darling sin
Is pride that apes humility.
_The Devil's Thoughts_. S.T. COLERIDGE.

O, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side!
_Measure for Measure, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

'Tis too much proved--that with devotion's visage
And pious action we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.
_Hamlet, Act iii, Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

I waive the quantum o' the sin,
The hazard of concealing:
But, och! it hardens a' within,
And petrifies the feeling.
_Epistle to a Young Friend_. R. BURNS.

IDLENESS.

'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain,
"You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again."
_The Sluggard_. DR. I. WATTS.

Sloth views the towers of fame with envious eyes,
Desirous still, still impotent to rise.
_The Judgment of Hercules_. W. SHENSTONE.

Their only labor was to kill the time
(And labor dire it is, and weary woe);
They sit, they loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme;
Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go,
Or saunter forth, with tottering step and slow:
This soon too rude an exercise they find;
Straight on the couch their limbs again they throw,
Where hours on hours they sighing lie reclined,
And court the vapory god, soft breathing in the wind.
_The Castle of Indolence, Canto I_. J. THOMSON.

Leisure is pain; take off our chariot wheels,
How heavily we drag the load of life!
Blest leisure is our curse; like that of Cain,
It makes us wander, wander earth aro