Since word is thrall, and thought is free, Keep well thy tongue, I counsel thee.

The windy satisfaction of the tongue.

To make the plough go before the horse.

God gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine, For on his throne his sceptre do they sway; And as their subjects ought them to obey, So kings should feare and serve their God againe.

A custom loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black, stinking fume thereof, nearest resembling the horrible Stygian smoke of the pit that is bottomless

I will govern according to the common weal, but not according to the common will