What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
Nothing violent, oft have I heard tell, can be permanent.
You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute, And now and then stab, as occasion serves.
Accurst be he that first invented war.
I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.