Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.

That gloomy outside, like a rusty chest, contains the shoring treasure of a soul resolved and brave.

Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.

Forgiveness to the injured does belong; but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.

But love's a malady without a cure.

Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end; whereas that which is founded on true virtue, will always continue.

We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.