Nothing is thought rare Which is not new, and follow'd; yet we know That what was worn some twenty years ago Comes into grace again.

We must all die! All leave ourselves, it matters not where, when, Nor how, so we die well; and can that man that does so Need lamentation for him?

There's nothing that allays an angry mind So soon as a sweet beauty.

An injury graves itself in metal, but a benefit writes itself in water. [Fr., L'injure se grave en metal; et le bienfait s'escrit en l'onde.]

All your better deeds Shall be in water writ, but this in marble.

Deeds, not words.