Who casts to write a living line, must sweat.

I have been at my book; and am now past the craggy paths of study, and come to the flowery plains of honour and reputation

I feel my griefs too, and there scarce is ground Upon my flesh t'inflict another wound. Yet dare I not complain, or wish for death With holy Paul; lest it be thought the breath Of discontent; or that these prayers be For weariness of life, not love of thee.

The way to rise is to obey and please.

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light Goddess, excellently bright.

Opinion is a light, vain, crude, and imperfect thing.

Good men but see death, the wicked taste it.