O Death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!

This was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators, save only he,Did that they did in envy of Caesar;He only, in a general honest thoughtAnd common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elementsSo mixd in him that Nature might stand upAnd say to all the world, This was a man!

Tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil.

A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.

Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?

Let none presume To wear an undeserved dignity. O that estates, degrees, and offices Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!

I see a woman may be made a fool, If she had not a spirit to resist.