Many good purposes lie in the churchyard.

True dignity is never gained by place, and never lost when honors are withdrawn.

Death hath a thousand doors to let out life: I shall find one.

What pity ’tis, one that can speak so well, Should in his actions be so ill!

But married once, a man is stak’d or pown’d, and cannot graze beyond his own hedge.

I have play’d the fool, the gross fool, to believe The bosom of a friend will hold a secret Mine own could not contain.

Such as ne’er saw swans May think crows beautiful.

Greatness, with private men Esteem’d a blessing, is to me a curse; And we, whom, for our high births, they conclude The happy freemen, are the only slaves. Happy the golden mean!

The good needs fear no law, It is his safety and the bad man’s awe.

He that doth public good for multitudes, finds few are truly grateful.