Arrogance
There are a sort of men, whose visagesDo cream and mantle like a standing pond,And do a willful stillness entertain,With purpose to be dressed in an opinionOf wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,As who should say, “I am Sir Oracle,And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!”O! my Antonio, I do know of theseThat therefore are reputed wiseFor saying nothing, when, I am sure,If they should speak, would almost dam those ears,Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
The Merchant of Venice—I. 1.