I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm.

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.

Every cloud engenders not a storm.

But shall we wear these glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

Hate pollutes the mind.

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.

To beguile the time, look like the time.