Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.

For evil news rides post, while good news baits.

I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat.

Pleas'd me, long choosing and beginning late.

Chaos umpire sits And by decision more embroils the fray by which he reigns: next him high arbiter Chance governs all.

For neither man nor angel can discern hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible, except to God alone.

Sable-vested Night, eldest of things.