One that hath wine as a chain about his wits, such a one lives no life at all.
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.
Wine is a peep-hole on a man.
Plant no tree sooner than the vine.
Fighting men are the city's fortress.
Not well-built walls, but brave citizens are the bulwark of the city.