Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!

Why do they call me misanthrope? Because They hate me, not I them.

I am never long, even in the society of her I love, without yearning for the company of my lamp and my library.

Sorrow preys upon Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.

Tyranny Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem None rebels except subjects? The prince who Neglects or violates his trust is more A brigand than the robber-chief.

Go let thy less than woman's hand Assume the distaff not the brand.

There is no traitor like him whose domestic treason plants the poniard within the breast that trusted to his truth