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Curs’d be that wretch (Death’s factor sure) who brought Dire swords into the peaceful world, and taught Smiths (who before could only make.

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His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might Be wrong; his life, I’m sure, was in the right.
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Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
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Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
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Poets by Death are conquer’d but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
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What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
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What a brave privilege is it to be free from all contentions, from all envying or being envied, from receiving or paying all kinds of ceremonies!
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Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
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Ever Gone Run Stream Whole Will
The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government
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Consist Country Law Man Themselves
Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
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All the world’s bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
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His time’s forever, everywhere his place.
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Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
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Nay, in death’s hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove’s.
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“We may talk what we please,” he cries in his enthusiasm for the oldest of the arts, “of lilies, and lions rampant, and spread eagles
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Hope! fortune’s cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
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