Or if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.
Death is the golden key that opens the palace of eternity.
For contemplation he and valour formed; / For softness she and sweet attractive grace, / He for God only, she for God in him: / His fair large front and eye sublime declared / Absolute rule.
Arm the obdured breast with stubborn patience as with triple steel.
Solitude is sometimes the best society.