"How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns."

"His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power."

"Yet more there be, who doubt him or deride, And think, that all this world was made for show."

"For neither can we be in health, or have a sound mind, unless we are temperate."

"What hath night to do with sleep?"