O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.

The Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind.

His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.

As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.

I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.

That which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in. and the best of me is diligence.

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?