Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; for it will come to pass That every braggart will be found an ass.

But here's the joy: my friend and I are one, Sweet flattery!

What can be happier than for a man, conscious of virtuous acts, and content with liberty, to despise all human affairs?

To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, gives in your weakness strength unto your foe.

Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

O horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee!

Sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue.