And fools who came to scoff remain'd to pray.
Persecution is a tribute the great must always pay for preeminence.
The man recovered of the bite, The dog it was that died.
Take a dollar from a thousand and it will be a thousand no more.
He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, For he knew when he pleas'd he could whistle them back.
Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view.