Wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, but presently prevent the ways to wail.
In sweet music is such art: killing care and grief of heart fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Perseverance, my dear Lord. Keeps honour bright.
Vice repeated is like the wandering wind, blows dust in others' eyes to spread itself.
They lie deadly that tell you have good faces.
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.