Take the good the gods provide thee.
Jealousy's a proof of love, But 'tis a weak and unavailing medicine; It puts out the disease and makes it show, But has no power to cure.
All heiresses are beautiful.
The conscience of a people is their power.
How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
I am devilishly afraid, that's certain; but ... I'll sing, that I may seem valiant.