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He wants wit that wants resolved will

To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.

He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time.

He who the sword of heaven will bear
Should be as holy as severe.

Honest as the skin between his brows.

Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.

Holy men at their death have good inspirations.

Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.

He is well paid that is well satisfied.

How full of briars is this working-day world!

Half won is match well made.

He, that a fool doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob.

How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes!

He that of greatest works is finisher,
Oft does them by the weakest minister.

Honours thrive

When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our foregoers.

Happy man be his dole!

He that runs fastest gets the ring.

He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.

How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime
To harder bosoms!

How

many fond fools serve mad jealousy!

He must have a long spoon that must eat with the devil.

He is but a bastard to the time
That doth not smack of observation.

He that stands upon a slippery place
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.

He that steeps his safety in true blood
Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue.

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds
Makes deeds ill done!

He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes.

Hope to joy is little less in joy

Than hope enjoy'd.

How quickly nature falls into revolt
When gold becomes her object!

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