My pride fell with my fortunes.

...and then, in dreaming, / The clouds methought would open and show riches / Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked / I cried to dream again.

He's of the colour of the nutmeg. And of the heat of the ginger.... he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him; he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.

Be to yourself as you would to your friend.

Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Honesty is the best policy. If I lose mine honor, I lose myself.

Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.