Three poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd; The next, in majesty; in both the last. The force of Nature could no further go; To make a third, she join'd the former two.

War is a trade of kings.

They say everything in the world is good for something.

All things are subject to decay and when fate summons, monarchs must obey.

Thus, while the mute creation downward bend Their sight, and to their earthly mother ten, Man looks aloft; and with erected eyes Beholds his own hereditary skies.

Pleasure never comes sincere to man; but lent by heaven upon hard usury.

Genius must be born, it can't be taught.