Treason seldom dwells with courage.

'Tis an old tale, and often told; But did my fate and wish agree, Ne'er had been read, in story old, Of maiden true betray'd for gold, That loved, or was avenged, like me!

Methinks I will not die quite happy without having seen something of that Rome of which I have read so much.

Great talent has always a little madness mixed up with it.

If a faultless poem could be produced, I am satisfied it would tire the critics themselves; and annoy the whole reading world with the spleen.

Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening.

Treason seldom dwells with courage.