How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry.
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where.
If fortune torments me, hope contents me.
A man should be what he seems.
Wise men never sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms.