The servant may not look to be in better case than his master.

They set great store by their gardens . . . Their studie and deligence herein commeth not only of pleasure, but also of a certain strife and contention . . . concerning the trimming, husbanding, and furnishing of their gardens; everye man or his owne parte.

As for rosemary, I let it run all over my garden walls, not only because my bees love it but because it is the herb sacred to remembrance and to friendship, whence a sprig of it hath a dumb language.

Who does more earnestly long for a change than he who is uneasy in his present circumstances? And who run to create confusions with so desperate a boldness as those who have nothing to lose, hope to gain by them?

Take something from yourself, to give to another, that is humane and gentle and never takes away as much comfort as it brings again.

Oh! blame not the bard.

It is only natural, of course, that each man should think his own opinions best: the crow loves his fledgling, and the ape his cub.