War is a trade of kings.
Whatever is, is in its causes just.
The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.
Such subtle Covenants shall be made,Till Peace it self is War in Masquerade.
Beware of the fury of the patient man.
Three poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd; The next, in majesty; in both the last. The force of Nature could no further go; To make a third, she join'd the former two.