Laws are generally found to be nets of such a texture, as the little creep through, the great break through, and the middle-sized are alone entangled in it.

William Shenstone (1714–1763), an English poet and essayist associated with the mid‑18th‑century “moral” and reflective tradition, is also known for his posthumously published prose reflections. The remark about laws as “nets” belongs to that vein of social observation: a skeptical, aphoristic critique of how legal systems often operate in practice rather than in principle. In an era marked by sharp class distinctions and uneven access to influence, patronage, and legal representation, Shenstone’s epigram captures a common Enlightenment-era complaint—namely, that formal rules tend to be enforced most effectively against those with limited power, while the very weak slip beneath notice and the very powerful evade consequences.

The metaphor of law as a net suggests a device meant to catch wrongdoers but whose “texture” is flawed: the smallest offenders “creep through” (petty acts go unpoliced or are overlooked), the greatest “break through” (the powerful can resist, manipulate, or outspend enforcement), and only the “middle-sized” are reliably trapped. Shenstone’s point is less about the ideal of law than about its unequal application—how enforcement, discretion, and resources shape outcomes. The aphorism remains resonant as a critique of selective justice: systems may appear impartial in wording yet function regressively, burdening those with enough visibility to be targeted but not enough power to escape.