"Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures. War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honor but an empty bubble; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying. If all the world be worth thy winning. Think, oh think it worth enjoying: Lovely Thaïs sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee."

"For pity melts the mind to love."

"Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, Fallen from his high estate, And welt'ring in his blood; Deserted, at his utmost need, By those his former bounty fed, On the bare earth exposed he lies, With not a friend to close his eyes."

"Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain."

"Drinking is the soldier’s pleasure; Rich the treasure; Sweet the pleasure; Sweet is pleasure after pain."

"Bacchus, ever fair and ever young."

"Sound the trumpets; beat the drums... Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes."

"With ravished ears The monarch hears; Assumes the god, Affects the nod, And seems to shake the spheres."

"Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair."

"I have a soul that like an ample shield Can take in all, and verge enough for more."

"This is the porcelain clay of humankind."

"The true Amphitryon is the Amphitryon where we dine."

"Whistling to keep myself from being afraid."

"A knockdown argument: 'tis but a word and a blow."

"She knows her man, and when you rant and swear, Can draw you to her with a single hair."

"Indulge, and to thy genius freely give; For not to live at ease, is not to live. Death stalks behind thee, and each flying hour Does some loose remnant of thy life devour. Live, while thou liv'st; for death will make us all A name, a nothing but an old wife's tale."

"I well believe, thou wouldst be great as he; For every man's a fool to that degree: All wish the dire prerogative to kill; Ev'n they would have the power who want the will."

"Look round the habitable world: how few Know their own good, or knowing it, pursue."

"I am reading Jonson's verses to the memory of Shakespeare; an insolent, sparing, and invidious panegyric."

"For those whom God to ruin has design'd, He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind."

"Possess your soul with patience."

"Secret guilt by silence is betrayed."

"T' abhor the makers, and their laws approve, Is to hate traitors and the treason love."

"For present joys are more to flesh and blood Than a dull prospect of a distant good."

"Jealousy, the jaundice of the soul."

"War seldom enters but where wealth allures."

"All have not the gift of martyrdom."

"As long as words a different sense will bear, And each may be his own interpreter, Our airy faith will no foundation find; The word's a weathercock for every wind."

"Too black for heav'n, and yet too white for hell."

"And kind as kings upon their coronation day."

"Reason to rule, mercy to forgive: The first is law, the last prerogative."

"Of all the tyrannies on human kind The worst is that which persecutes the mind."

"For truth has such a face and such a mien As to be loved needs only to be seen."

"And doomed to death, though fated not to die."

"She feared no danger, for she knew no sin."

"So, when the last and dreadful Hour This crumbling Pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And musick shall untune the Sky."

"The soft complaining flute, In dying notes, discovers The woes of hopeless lovers."

"The trumpet's loud clangor Excites us to arms."

"What passion cannot Music raise and quell?"

"From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began: When nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, 'Arise, ye more than dead!' Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry, In order to their stations leap, And Music's power obey. From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began: From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man."

"Nay, tho' our Atoms shou'd revolve by chance, And matter leape into the former dance; Tho' time our Life and motion cou'd restore, And make our Bodies what they were before, What gain to us wou'd all this bustle bring, The new made man wou'd be another thing; When once an interrupting pause is made, That individual Being is decay'd. We, who are dead and gone, shall bear no part In all the pleasures, nor shall feel the smart, Which to that other Mortal shall accrew, Whom of our Matter Time shall mould anew."

"Milton's Paradise Lost is admirable; but am I therefore bound to maintain, that there are no flats amongst his elevations, when it is evident he creeps along sometimes for above an hundred lines together? Cannot I admire the height of his invention, and the strength of his expression, without defending his antiquated words, and the perpetual harshness of their sound? It is as much commendation as a man can bear, to own him excellent; all beyond it is idolatry."

"I can enjoy her while she's kind; But when she dances in the wind, And shakes the wings and will not stay, I puff the prostitute away: The little or the much she gave is quietly resign'd: Content with poverty, my soul I arm; And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm."

"Be fair, or foul, or rain, or shine, The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not heaven itself upon the past has power; But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour."

"Happy the man, and happy he alone, He who can call today his own; He who, secure within, can say, Tomorrow, do thy worst, for I have lived today."

"More Safe, and much more modest 'tis, to say God wou'd not leave Mankind without a way: And that the Scriptures, though not every where Free from Corruption, or intire, or clear, Are uncorrupt, sufficient, clear, intire, In all things which our needfull Faith require. If others in the same Glass better see 'Tis for Themselves they look, but not for me: For my Salvation must its Doom receive Not from what others, but what I believe."

"Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and stars To lonely, weary, wandering travellers Is reason to the soul; and as on high Those rolling fires discover but the sky Not light us here, so reason's glimmering ray Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, But guide us upward to a better day: And as those nightly tapers disappear When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere, So pale grows reason at religion's sight, So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light."

"A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth."

"Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command Some peaceful province in acrostic land. There thou mayst wings display and altars raise, And torture one poor word ten thousand ways."

"The rest to some faint meaning make pretense, But Shadwell never deviates into sense. Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, Strike through and make a lucid interval; But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray, His rising fogs prevail upon the day."