Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, a box where sweets compacted lie.
Living well is the best revenge.
Prettiness dies first.
Promising is the eve of giving.
Pull downe your hatt on the winds side.
Ready mony is a ready Medicine.
Reckon right, and February hath one and thirty daies.
Religion a stalking horse to shoot other foul.
Religion, Credit, and the Eye are not to be touched.
Rivers neede a spring.
Saint Luke was a Saint and a Physitian, yet is dead.
Send not a Catt for Lard.
We must recoile a little, to the end we may leap the better.
Wealth is like rheume, it falles on the weakest parts.
Who hath bitter in his mouth, spits not all sweet.
One sword keeps another in the sheath.
He makes flat war with God, and doth defy With his poor clod of earth the spacious sky.
History is always the interpretation of the present.
One good mother is worth a hundred schoolmasters.
Would you reach the infinite? Then enter into finite things, working out all that they contain.
Familiarity obscures. It breeds instinct and not understanding.