He is the very Janus of poets; he wears almost everywhere two faces; and you have scarce begun to admire the one, ere you despise the other.

But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be; Within that circle none durst walk but he.

Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.

Forgiveness to the injured does belong; but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.

For my part, I can compare her (a gossip) to nothing but the sun; for, like him, she knows no rest, nor ever sets in one place but to rise in another.

That gloomy outside, like a rusty chest, contains the shoring treasure of a soul resolved and brave.

No king nor nation one moment can retard the appointed hour.