We find few historians who have been diligent enough in their search for truth; it is their common method to take on trust what they help distribute to the public; by which means a falsehood once received from a famed writer becomes traditional to posterity.

Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.

Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.

Seas are the fields of combat for the winds; but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.

As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.

He made all countries where he came his own.

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