Should the poor be flattered? No; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, and crook the pregnant hinges of the knee where thrift may follow fawning.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.
As I love the name of honour more than I fear death.
In a false quarrel there is no true valor.
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor.