Great honours are great burdens, but on whom They are cast with envy, he doth bear two loads.
Good men are the stars, the planets of the ages wherein they live, and illustrate the times.
The covetous man never has money. The prodigal will have none shortly.
It is less dishonor to hear imperfectly than to speak imperfectly. The ears are excused; the understanding is not.
A good king is a public servant.
It is virtue that gives glory; that will endenizen a man everywhere.
Mischiefs feed / Like beasts, till they be fat, and then they bleed.
The pipe marks the point at which the orangutan ends and man begins.
Wine it is the milk of Venus, And the poet's horse accounted: Ply it and you all are mounted.
Of all wild beasts preserve me from a tyrant; and of all tame a flatterer.
Woman, the more careful she is about her face, the more careless about her house.
The poet is the nearest borderer upon the orator.
O, for an engine, to keep back all clocks, or make the sun forget his motion!
If I freely may discover What should please me in my lover, I would have her fair and witty, Savouring more of court than city; A little proud, but full of pity; Light and humorous in her toying, Oft building hopes, and soon destroying, Long, but sweet in the enjoying; Neither too easy nor to hard; All extremes I would have barr'd.
Fortune, that favors fools.
Chance will not do the work. Chance sends the breeze; But if the pilot slumber at the helm, The very wind that wafts us tow'rds the port May dash us on the shoals. The steersman's part Is vigilance, or blow it rough or smooth.
Confound these ancestors... They've stolen our best ideas!
Silence in woman is like speech in man.
Where dost thou careless lie, Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps, doth die; And this security, It is the common moth, That eats on wits and arts, and oft destroys them both.
Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love, Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever; Spend not then his gifts in vain: Suns that set may rise again; But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night. Why should we defer our joys? Fame and rumour are but toys.
I perceive affection makes a fool Of any man too much the father.
Poets are far rarer birds than kings.
In the hope to meet Shortly again, and make our absence sweet.
Follow a shadow, it still flies you, Seem to fly, it will pursue: So court a mistress, she denies you; Let her alone, she will court you. Say are not women truly, then, Styled but the shadows of us men?
Out of clothes out of countenance, out of countenance out of wit.
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