Lust carries her sharp whip At her own girdle.
Lay this unto your breast: Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best.
Gold that buys health can never be ill spent, Nor hours laid out in harmless merriment.
That friend a great man's ruin strongly checks, who rails into his belief all his defects.
All things do help the unhappy man to fall.
The chiefest action for a man of great spirit is never to be out of action... the soul was never put into the body to stand still.