Pity only on fresh objects stays, but with the tedious sight of woes decays.

Even kings but play; and when their part is done, some other, worse or better, mounts the throne.

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail: But common interest always will prevail; And pity never ceases to be shown To him who makes the people's wrongs his own.

Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.

One of the greatest, most noble, and most sublime poems which either this age or nation has produced.

The first is the law, the last prerogative.