Tis ill talking of halters in the house of a man that was hanged.

Soul of fibre and heart of oak.

Sorrow was made for man, not for beasts; yet if men encourage melancholy too much, they become no better than beasts.

When thou art at Rome, do as they do at Rome.

All kinds of beauty do not inspire love; there is a kind which only pleases the sight, but does not captivate the affections.

'Tis said of love that it sometimes goes, sometimes flies; runs with one, walks gravely with another; turns a third into ice, and sets a fourth in a flame: it wounds one, another it kills: like lightning it begins and ends in the same moment: it makes that fort yield at night which it besieged but in the morning; for there is no force able to resist it.

Behind the cross is the devil.