This we prescribe, though no physician; Deep malice makes too deep incision; Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.

In delay there lies no plenty.

If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.

They lie deadly that tell you have good faces.

Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.

Friendship is full of dregs.

No stony bulwark can resist the love, and love dares what anyone can love.