What more than madness reigns, when one short sitting many hundreds drains.

Hence it is that old men do plant young trees, the fruit whereof another age shall take.

Wit,--the pupil of the soul's clear eye.

We may conceive an hope that the next generation will in tongue and heart and every way else become English; so as there will be no difference or distinction but the Irish sea betwixt us.

For what made that in glory shine so long But poets' Pens, pluckt from Archangels' wings?

Zeal without knowledge is the sister of folly.

Dancing is a frenzyand a rage.