Vice repeated is like the wandering wind, blows dust in others' eyes to spread itself.
In thy face I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty.
I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange with-out heresy.
When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.
Bounty, being free itself, thinks all others so.
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.