Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water.

The big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose, In piteous chase.

It was always yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common.

He that is strucken blind can not forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost.

Ingrateful man with liquorish draughts, and morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind that from it all consideration slips.

Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.

Oppose not rage while rage is in its force, but give it way a while and let it waste.