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• Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
  War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour but an empty bubble...
• Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act iv, Sc. 1...
• And all to leave what with his toil he won To that unfeather'd two-legged thing, a son.
  -- John Dryden (1631-1700) -- Absalom and Achitophel, Part i, Line 169...
• Thespis, the first professor of our art, At country wakes sung ballads from a cart.
  -- John Dryden (1631-1700) -- Prologue to Lee's Sophonisba...
• The highest reward for a man's toil is not what he gets for it, but what he becomes of it.
  -- John Ruski...
• All delays are dangerous in war. -- John Dryden (1631-1700) -- Tyrannic Love, Act i, Sc. 1
• Love is love's reward. -- John Dryde
• All heiresses are beautiful. -- John Dryde
• But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be; Within that circle none durst walk but he.
  -- John Dryden (1631-1700) -- The Tempest, Prologue...