How gladly would I meet mortality, my sentence, and be earth in sensible! How glad would lay me down, as in my mother's lap! There I should rest, and sleep secure.

Opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making.

It is Chastity, my brother. She that has that is clad in complete steel.

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me?

The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.

Th'invention all admir'd, and each, how he to be th'inventor miss'd; so easy it seem'd once found, which yet unfound most would have thought impossible.

Where no hope is left, is left no fear.