Having nothing, nothing can he lose.

Cheerily to sea; the signs of war advance: No king of England, if not king of France

There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and grows old.

Venus smiles not in a house of tears.

This thing of darkness I acknowlege mine. There is nothing more confining than the prison we don't know we are in.

No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds?

O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, 1710. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?