Neither eyes on letters, nor hands in coffers.

Shewa good man his errour and he turnes it to a vertue, but an ill, it doubles his fault.

Of the smells, bread; of the tastes, salt.

In war, hunting, and love, men for one pleasure a thousand griefes prove.

Good horses make short miles.

There is no heat of affection but is joyned with some idlenesse of brain, says the Spaniard.

A jade eates as much as a good horse.