The true way to gain much is never to desire to gain too much.
You are no better than you should be.
Faith without works is like a bird without wings; though she may hop with her companions on earth, yet she will never fly with them to heaven.
Those have most power to hurt us, that we love.
There's nothing that allays an angry mind So soon as a sweet beauty.
Kiss till the cow comes home.
Our lives are but our marches to the grave.
As men do walk a mile, women should talk an hour, After supper. 'Tis their exercise.
Envy, like the worm, never runs but to the fairest fruit; like a cunning bloodhound, it singles out the fattest deer in the flock.
Let no man fear to die, we love to sleep all, and death is but the sounder sleep.
My virginity, that from my childhood kept me company, is heavier than I can endure to bear. Forgive me, Cupid, for thou art god, and I a wretched creature: I have sinn'd; but be thou merciful, and grant that yet I may enjoy what thou wilt have me love!
Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
Oh, love will make a dog howl in rhyme.
There is a method in man's wickedness; it grows up by degrees.
As high as Heaven, as deep as Hell.
Honor's a thing too subtle for wisdom; if honor lie in eating, he's right honorable.
Grace comes often clad in the dusky robe of desolation.
Nose, nose, jolly red nose,And who gave thee that jolly red nose?Nutmegs and ginger, cinammon and cloves;And they gave me this jolly red nose.
Of all the paths [that] lead to a woman's love Pity's the straightest.
If men wound you with injuries, meet them with patience; hasty words rankle the wound, soft language dresses it, forgiveness cures it, and oblivion takes away the scar. It is more noble by silence to avoid an injury than by argument to overcome it.
Bad's the best of us.
It is more noble by silence to avoid an injury than by argument to overcome it.
The true way to gain much, is never to desire to gain too much. He is not rich that possesses much, but he that covets no more; and he is not poor that enjoys little, but he that wants too much.
Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under Fortune's false lottery, desperately run To death, for dread of death; that soul's most stout, That, bearing all mischance, dares last it out.
Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,
And sweet thyme true,
Primrose, first born child of Ver,
Merry Spring-time's harbinger.
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