Who covets more is evermore a slave.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun.

Humble we must be, if to heaven we go; High is the roof there, but the gate is low.

In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.

Twixt kings and tyrants there's this difference known; Kings seek their subjects' good: tyrants their own.

Each must in virtue strive for to excel; That man lives twice that lives the first life well.

Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.