Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearn'd and make the learned smile.

Dear, damned, distracting town, farewell! Thy fools no more I'll tease: This year in peace, ye critics, dwell, Ye harlots, sleep at ease!

But blind to former as to future fate, what mortal knows his pre-existent state?

Jarring interests of themselves create the according music of a well-mixed state.

Order is Heaven's first law; and this confessed, some are, and must be, greater than the rest, more rich, more wise; but who infers from hence that such are happier, shocks all common sense. Condition, circumstance, is not the thing; bliss is the same in subject or in king.

When I die, I should be ashamed to leave enough to build me a monument if there were a wanting friend above ground. I would enjoy the pleasure of what I give by giving it alive and seeing another enjoy it.

Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel?