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The character of a liar is at once so hateful and
contemptible, that even of those who have lost
their virtue it might be expected that from the
violation of truth they should be restrained by
their pride. Almost every other vice that disgraces
human nature, may be kept in countenance by
applause and association: the corrupter of virgin
innocence sees himself envied by the men, and at
least not detested by the women; the drunkard may
easily unite with beings, devoted like himself to
noisy merriments or silent insensibility, who will
celebrate his victories over the novices of intemperance,
boast themselves the companions of his prowess,
and tell with rapture of the multitudes whom
unsuccessful emulation has hurried to the grave;
even the robber and the cut-throat have their
followers, who admire their address and intrepidity,
their stratagems of rapine, and their fidelity to the
gang.
The liar, and only the liar, is invariably and
universally despised, abandoned, and disowned: he has
no domestick consolations, which he can oppose to
the censure of mankind; he can retire to no fraternity,
where his crimes may stand in the place of
virtues; but is given up to the hisses of the
multitude, without friend and without apologist.
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