Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous-evil
Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil.

Value dwells not in particular will ;

It holds his estimate and dignity,
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself,
As in the prizer.

Virtue and cunning* are endowments greater
Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs
May the two latter darken and expend;
But immortality attends the former,
Making a man a god.

Violent delights have violent ends,

And in their triumph die: like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume.

Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.

What cannot be eschew'd must be embrac'd.

Women are as roses; whose fair flower,
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.

Wise men, that give fools money, get themselves a good report after fourteen years' purchase.

We cannot weigh our brother with ourself.

We must not make a scarecrow of the law,
Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,
And let it keep one shape till custom make it
Their perch, and not their terror.

What king so strong,

Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

Where two raging fires meet together, They do consume the thing that feeds their fury. What need the bridge much broader than the flood?

The fairest grant is the necessity.

What we have, we prize not to the worth

Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why then we rack the value.

We do pray for mercy,

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.

Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?

Words do well,

When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.

Wit, whither wilt?

We must do good against evil.

What's gone, and what's past help,

Should be past grief.