When beggars die, there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

Men have marble, women waxen, minds.

The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

Nothing comes from doing nothing.

Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?

Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.

Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies!