Page:Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922).djvu/221

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DECEIT
DECEIT
183
1

It is vain to find fault with those arts of deceiving, wherein men find pleasure to be deceived.

LockeHuman Understanding. Bk. III. Ch. X. 34.


Where the lion's skin falls short it must be
eked out with the fox's.
Ltsandek. Remark upon being told that he
resorted too much to craft. Plutarch—Life
of Lysander.


He seemed
For dignity compos'd and high exploit:
But all was false and hollow.
 | author = Milton
 | work = Paradise Lost.
 | place = Bk. II. L. 110.
 | place =
 | note =
 | topic = Deceit
 | page =
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{{Hoyt quote
 | num = 1
 | text = On est aisernent dup6 par ce qu'on aime.
One is easily fooled by that which one loves.
Moijere—Le Tartujfe. IV. 3.


Impia sub dulci melle venena latent.
Deadly poisons are concealed under sweet
honey.
Ovid—Amorum. I. 8. 104.
Pia fraus.
A pious fraud.
Ovid—Metamorphoses.
DC. 711.


Furtum ingeniosus ad omne,
Qui facere assueret, patriae non degener artis,
Candida de nigris, et de candentibus atra.
Skilled in every trick, a worthy heir of his paternal craft, he would make black look white, and white look black.
Ovid—Metamorphoses. XI. 313.


Fronte politus
Astutam vapido seryas sub pectore vulpeni.
Though thy face is glossed with specious art
thou retainest the cunning fox beneath thy
vapid breast.
Persius—Satires. V. 116.


Habent insidias hominis blanditiae mali.
The smooth speeches of the wicked are full
of treachery.
PaEDRUs—Fables. I. 19. 1.


Altera manu fert lapidem, altera panem ostentat.
He carries a stone in one hand, and offers
bread with the other.
Plautus—Aidularia. II. 2. 18.


Singuli enim decipere et decipi possunt: nemo
omnes* neminem omnes fefellunt.
Individuals indeed may deceive and be deceived; but no one has ever deceived all men,
nor have all men ever deceived any one.
Pliny the Younger—Panegyr. Traj. 62.
 | seealso = (See also Lincoln)
 | topic = Deceit
 | page =
}}

{{Hoyt quote
 | num =
 | text = <poem>Engin mieulx vault que force.
Machination is worth more than force.
Rabelais—Pantagruel. Ch. XXVII.


Wir betrugen und schmeicheln niemanden
durch so feine Kunstgriffe als uns selbst.
We deceive and flatter no one by such delicate artifices as we do our own selves.
Schopenhauer—Die Welt als WiUe. I. 350.


With an auspicious and a dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole.
Hamlet. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 12.


They fool me to the top of my bent. I will
come by and by.
Hamlet. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 401.


But when the fox hath once got in his nose,
He'll soon find means to make the body follow.
Henry VI. Pt. III. Actr^. Sc. 7. L. 25.


A quicksand of deceit.
Henry VI. Pt. III. Act V. Sc. 4. L. 26.


The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us
In deepest consequence.
Macbeth. Act I. Sc. 3. L. 124.


The world is still deceiv'd with ornament,
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
Merchant of Venice. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 74.


Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me,
For making him egregiously an ass.
Othello. Act II. - Sc. 1. L. 317.


Who makes the fairest show means most deceit.
Pericles. Act I. Sc. 4. L. 75.


Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes,
And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile.
Richard III. Act II. Sc. 2. L. 27.


O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace!

Romeo and Juliet. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 84.


Orlando's helmet in Augustine's cowl.
Horace and James Smith—Rejected Addresses. Cui Bono. Imitation of Byron.


Hinc nunc premium est, qui recta prava faciunt.
There is a demand in these days for men
who can make wrong conduct appear right.
Terence—Phormio. VIII. 2. 6.


Deceit and treachery skulk with hatred, but
an honest spirit flieth with anger.
Tupper—Of Hatred and Anger.


Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast
False fires, that others may be lost.
Wordsworth—To the Lady Fleming.