In durance vile here must I wake and weep,

And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep.

Robert Burns (1759-1796): Epistle from Esopus to Maria.

And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth

Was parmaceti for an inward bruise;

And that it was great pity, so it was,

This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd

Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,

Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd

So cowardly; and but for these vile guns,

He would himself have been a soldier.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

And he that stands upon a slippery place.

Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King John. Act iii. Sc. 4.

O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults

Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 4.

As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns

As the rapt seraph that adores and burns:

To Him no high, no low, no great, no small;

He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all!

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 277.

O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies

In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:

For nought so vile that on the earth doth live

But to the earth some special good doth give,

Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use

Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;

And vice sometimes by action dignified.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Romeo and Juliet. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Though every prospect pleases,

And only man is vile.

Reginald Heber (1783-1826): Missionary Hymn.

And the vile squeaking of the wry-necked fife.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 5.