Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won.
For such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the borrowers, among good authors is accounted Plagiarè.
Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy.
To adore the conqueror, who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood.
Luck is the residue of design.
I fled, and cry'd out, Death; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd From all her caves, and back resounded, Death.