Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.

For age but tastes of pleasures youth devours.

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

She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty, Grows cold even in the summer of her age.

Great souls forgive not injuries till time has put their enemies within their power, that they may show forgiveness is their own.

Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.

Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child.