The same ambition can destroy or save, and make a patriot as it makes a knave.
Whoe'er he be That tells my faults, I hate him mortally.
I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.
Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes: the glorious fault of angels and of gods.
For when success a lover's toil attends,Few ask, if fraud or force attain'd his ends
Let fortune do her worst, whatever she makes us lose, so long as she never makes us lose our honesty and our independence.