It is a blind goose that cometh to the fox's sermon.

In arguing of the shadow, we forgo the substance.

Time draweth wrinkles in a fair face, but addeth fresh colors to a fast friend, which neither heat, nor cold, nor misery, nor place, nor destiny, can alter or diminish

The tongue, the ambassador of the heart.

To give reason for fancy were to weigh the fire, and measure the wind.

There can no great smoke arise, but there must be some fire.

All men [are] of one metal, but not in one mold.