As night the life-inclining stars best shows, So lives obscure the starriest souls disclose.

Let no man under value the price of a virtuous woman's counsel.

Tis immortality to die aspiring.

And for the authentical truth of either person or actions, who (worth the respecting) will expect it in a poem, whose subject is not truth, but things like truth? Poor envious souls they are that cavil at truth's want in these natural fictions; material instruction, elegant and sententious excitation to virtue, and deflection from her contrary, being the soul, limbs, and limits of an authentical tragedy.

Pure innovation is more gross than error.

Danger, the spur of all great minds.

Tis immortality to die aspiring, As if a man were taken quick to heaven.