Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, Heavens conspir'd his overthrow.
Religion hides many mischiefs from suspicion.
Goodness is beauty in the best estate.
It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.
You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute, And now and then stab, as occasion serves.
Strike up the drum and march courageously.