Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.

The body is the soul's poor house or home, whose ribs the laths are and whose flesh the loam.

Know when to speak - for many times it brings danger, to give the best advice to kings.

None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.

Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold; New things succeed, as former things grow old.

But ne'er the rose without the thorn.

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: the sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.