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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,

 Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth: Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; I fear me both are false. God keep me from false friends! but they were none. False face must hide what the false heart doth know. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! What, frighted with false fire! No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd, At no time broke my faith; would not betray We speak no treason, man;--we say the king That very frankly he confess'd his treasons; That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! The envious slanders of her false accusers;  Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; Confound your hidden falsehood, and award Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade