Love Is Love's Reward.

The Propriety Of Thoughts And Words, Which Are The Hidden Beauties Of A Play, Are But Confusedly Judged In The Vehemence Of Action.

War Is A Trade Of Kings.

To Die For Faction Is A Common Evil, But To Be Hanged For Nonsense Is The Devil.

If You Are For A Merry Jaunt, I Will Try, For Once, Who Can Foot It Farthest.

Moderate Sorrow Fits Vulgar Love, And For A Vulgar Man: But I Have Lov'd With Such Transcendent Passion, I Soar'd, At First, Quite Out Of Reason's View, And Now Am Lost Above It.