The misery of us, that are born great, We are forced to woo because none dare woo us.
Physicians are like kings- They brook no contradiction.
Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright, But looked to near, have neither heat nor light.
Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.
Do you not weep? Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out. The element of water moistens the earth, But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens.
That friend a great man's ruin strongly checks, who rails into his belief all his defects.