Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures. War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour but an empty bubble; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying. If all the world be worth the winning, Think, oh think it worth enjoying: Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee.

Good Heaven, whose darling attribute we find is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind, abhors the cruel.

The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.

Love is love's reward.

My love's a noble madness.

He look'd in years, yet in his years were seen A youthful vigor, and autumnal green.