Give us enough but with a sparing hand.
Music so softens and disarms the mind That not an arrow does resistance find.
That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
Virtue's a stronger guard than brass.
What use of oaths, of promise, or of test, where men regard no God but interest?
When religion doth with virtue join, it makes a hero like an angel shine.