The True-Born Englishman by Daniel Defoe

Then let us boast of ancestors no more, Or deeds of heroes done in days of yore, In latent records of the ages past, Behind the rear of time, in long oblivion plac'd; For if our virtues must in lines descend, The merit with the families would end, And intermixtures would most fatal grow; For vice would be hereditary too; The tainted blood would of necessity, Involuntary wickedness convey.

Vice, like ill-nature, for an age or two, May seem a generation to pursue; But virtue seldom does regard the breed, Fools do the wise, and wise men fools succeed.