The buyer needs a hundred eyes, the seller not one.

George Herbert (1593–1633), best known as a metaphysical poet and Anglican priest, also wrote a large body of concise moral observations in proverb form. This saying belongs to that tradition: practical, worldly wisdom offered alongside religious counsel. In early modern England, buying and selling were increasingly shaped by expanding markets and imperfect information—buyers often had to judge quality, measure, and honesty with little protection, while sellers could profit from concealment or persuasive talk. The proverb reflects a common early modern suspicion that the risks of deception fall disproportionately on the purchaser, who must therefore be vigilant.

The proverb argues that caution is asymmetrical in commerce: the buyer must be watchful (“a hundred eyes”) because the buyer bears the cost of hidden defects, inflated claims, or unfair terms, whereas the seller can succeed even with minimal scrutiny. It compresses a theory of incentives—sellers may benefit from selective disclosure, while buyers must compensate through diligence. Beyond markets, it generalizes to any transaction where one party knows more than the other: the less-informed side must ask questions, verify, and resist being hurried. The line’s bluntness also carries a moral edge, implying that ethical selling should not rely on the buyer’s vigilance alone.