To hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature.

Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale: When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears and seem to weep with me; And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these.

Truth will come to sight; murder cannot be hid long.

Jesters do oft prove prophets.

Friendly counsel cuts off many foes.

It is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents and bolts up change.

With caution judge of probability. Things deemed unlikely, e'en impossible, experience oft hath proved to be true.