None But such as are good men can give good things, And that which is not good, is not delicious To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.

The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.

God sure esteems the growth and completing of one virtuous person, more that the restraint of ten vicious.

First Moloch, horrid king, besmirched in blood, Of Human sacrifice, and parent's tears, Though, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud, Their childrens' cries unheard, that passed through fire, To his grim idol.

The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil; Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.

For what can war, but endless war, still breed?

Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil.