The discourses of the table among true loving friends are held in strict silence.

Gravestones tell truth scarce forty years.

But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals with the memory of men without distinction to merit of perpetuity.

Nor do they speak properly who say that time consumeth all things; for time is not effective, nor are bodies destroyed by it.

The vices we scoff at in others laugh at us within ourselves.

There is a rabble among the gentry as well as the commonalty; a sort of plebeian heads whose fancy moves with the same wheel as these men?in the same level with mechanics, though their fortunes do sometimes gild their infirmities and their purses compound for their follies.

Let age, not envy, draw wrinkles on thy cheeks.