I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My scepter for a palmer's walking staff My subjects for a pair of carved saints and my large kingdom for a little grave.

So well thy words become thee as thy wounds.

Perseverance... keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail in monumental mockery.

I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.

O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come; But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.

Then is it sin to rush into the secret house of death. Ere death dare come to us?

A smile cures the wounding of a frown.