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Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix, Of crooked counsels and dark politics.

O villainy! Ho! let the door be lock'd. Treachery! seek it out.

The learned pate Ducks to the golden fool. All's obliquy; There's nothing level in our cursed natures But direct villainy.

Villain and he be many miles asunder.

But then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture, Tell them that Gods bids us do good for evil: And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ, And seems a saint, when most I play the devil.