Wine is a peep-hole on a man.
Not houses finely roofed or the stones of walls well builded, nay nor canals and dockyards make the city, but men able to use their opportunity.
The Arcadians were chestnut-eaters.
Not well-built walls, but brave citizens are the bulwark of the city.
Brave men are a city's strongest tower of defence.
Fighting men are the city's fortress
Plant no tree sooner than the vine.
Tis said that wrath is the last thing in a man to grow old.
One that hath wine as a chain about his wits, such a one lives no life at all.
To be bowed by grief is folly; Naught is gained by melancholy; Better than the pain of thinking, Is to steep the sense in drinking.
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