Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures. War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour but an empty bubble; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying. If all the world be worth the winning, Think, oh think it worth enjoying: Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee.

The conscience of a people is their power.

And love's the noblest frailty of the mind.

Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections.

Good Heaven, whose darling attribute we find is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind, abhors the cruel.

Zeal, the blind conductor of the will.

A happy genius is the gift of nature.