Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright, But looked to near, have neither heat nor light.

Woman to man Is either a God or a wolfe.

That friend a great man's ruin strongly checks, who rails into his belief all his defects.

Though lust do masque in ne'er so strange disguise she's oft found witty, but is never wise.

Poor maids have more lovers than husbands.

Oh, yes, thy sins Do run before thee to fetch fire from hell, To light thee thither.

Physicians are like kings- They brook no contradiction.