Who gives an empire, by the gift defeats All end of giving; and procures contempt Instead of gratitude.

Be wise today; 'tis madness to defer. Next day the fatal precedent will plead; thus on, til wisdom is pushed our of life.

Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.

The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.

When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees

Joys season'd high, and tasting strong of guilt.

Ah, how unjust to Nature and himself Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man!