Can one desire too much of a good thing?

Haply for I am black, And have not those soft parts of conversation That chamberers have; or for I am declined Into the vale of years—yet that’s not much— She’s gone. I am abused, and my relief Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad And live upon the vapor of a dungeon Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others’ uses. Yet ’tis the plague of great ones; Prerogatived are they less than the base. ’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.

Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.

Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall.

The venom clamours of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.

Wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.

He that has a house to put's head in has a good head-piece.