As lyke as one pease is to another.
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
I have ever thought so superstitiously of wit, that I fear I have committed idolatry against wisdom.
Whatsoever is in the heart of the sober man, is in the mouth of the drunkard.
If thy wealth waste, they wit will give but small warmth.
Do you think that any one can move the heart but He that made it?