Hang sorrow, care'll kill a cat.

Though I am young, and cannot tell Either what Death or Love is well, Yet I have heard they both bear darts, And both do aim at human hearts. And then again, I have been told Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold; So that I fear they do but bring Extremes to touch, and mean one thing. As in a ruin we it call One thing to be blown up, or fall; Or to our end like way may have By a flash of lightning, or a wave; So Love’s inflamèd shaft or brand May kill as soon as Death’s cold hand; Except Love’s fires the virtue have To fight the frost out of the grave.

Great honours are great burdens, but on whom They are cast with envy, he doth bear two loads.

He that would have his virtue published, is not the servant of virtue, but glory.

Woman, the more careful she is about her face, the more careless about her house.

Very few men are wise by their own council, or learned by their own teaching. For he that was only taught by himself, had a fool for a master.

There is no greater hell than to be a prisoner of fear.