Others may use the ocean as their road; Only the English make it their abode.
Fade, flowers, fade! Nature will have it so; 'tis but what we in our autumn do.
Gods, that never change their state, vary oft their love and hate.
With wisdom fraught; not such as books, but such as practice taught.
When religion doth with virtue join, it makes a hero like an angel shine.
All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings.