O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear.

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.

Those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country, as the behavior of the country is most mockable at the court.

Plenty and peace breed cowards; hardness ever of hardiness is mother.

And teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night.

The undeserver may sleep when the man of action is called on.

Thus weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid Their mistress mounted through the empty skies In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Means to immure herself and not be seen.