Love is Natures second sun.
Perfect happiness, by princes sought, Is not with birth born, nor exchequers bought.
He that shuns trifles must shun the world.
Virtue is not malicious; wrong done her Is righted even when men grant they err.
An Englishman, being flattered, is a lamb; threatened, a lion.
Blood, though it sleep a time, yet never dies. The gods on murtherers fix revengeful eyes.