Death! great proprietor of all! 'tis thine To tread out empire, and to quench the stars.
Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.
The purpose firm is equal to the deed
Titles are marks of honest men, and wise; The fool or knave that wears a title lies.
Let no man trust the first false step of guilt; it hangs upon a precipice, whose steep descent in last perdition ends.
We see time's furrows on another's brow, And death intrench'd, preparing his assault; How few themselves in that just mirror see!