A heat full of coldness, a sweet full of bitterness, a pain full of pleasantness, which maketh thoughts have eyes and hearts ears, bred by desire, nursed by delight, weaned by jealousy, kill'd by dissembling, buried by ingratitude, and this is love.

He that comes in print because he would be known, is like the fool that comes into the market because he would be seen.

The night has a thousand eyes.

Children and fools speak true.

The soft droppes of rain perce the hard marble.

Rather fast then surfette, rather starue then striue to exceede.

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