The undeserver may sleep when the man of action is called on.
An overflow of good converts to bad.
Be to yourself as you would to your friend.
Tired with all these for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn.
O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water.