Kings that made laws, first broke 'em.
'Twas but a dream, yet by my heart I knew, Which still was panting, part of it was true: Oh how I strove the rest to have believed; Ashamed and angry to be undeceived!
God makes all things good; Man meddles with 'em and they become evil.
Love, like reputation, once fled, never returns more.
I value fame as much as if I had been born a Hero.
Here lies a Proof that Wit can never be Defence enough against Mortality