People’s good deeds we write in water. The evil deeds are etched in brass.
Should the poor be flattered? No; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, and crook the pregnant hinges of the knee where thrift may follow fawning.
The appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony.
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered!
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.