Be advised; Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself: we may outrun, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running. Know you not, The fire that mounts the liquor til run o'er, In seeming to augment it wastes it?

My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.

Tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once.

Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.

Make not your thoughts your prisons.

To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue.

A table-full of welcome!