No reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.
We suffer a lot the few things we lack and we enjoy too little the many things we have.
O wretched state! o bosom black as death!
Grace and remembrance be to you both.
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.
'Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.