For who so firm that cannot be seduced?
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.
God defend me from that Welsh fairy, Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!
The love of heaven makes one heavenly.
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
Gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gain'd my freedom.