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Sweet love, changing his property,

Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate.

Self-love is not so vile a sin

As self-neglecting.

Soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.

Small curs are not regarded when they grin,
But great men tremble when the lion roars.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.

Small things make base men proud.

Suspicion ever haunts the guilty mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

Sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make haste.

Short summers lightly* have a forward spring.

* Commonly, usually.

Supple knees feed arrogance.

Sometimes we are devils to ourselves, When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency.

Sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.

Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.

Since the affairs of men rest still uncertain,
Let's reason with the worst that may

befal.

Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.

Some griefs are medicinable.

Service is not service, so being done,

But being so allow'd.

Stony limits cannot hold love out;

And what love can do, that dares love attempt.

Slander,

Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose

tongue

Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie

All corners of the world: kings, queens, and

states,

Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.

Society is no comfort to one not sociable.

Some falls are means the happier to arise.

Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.

Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.

Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.

Sad hours seem long.

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The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd.

They do not love that do not shew their love.

To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.

Truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.

The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth

rage.

That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

The strongest oaths are straw

To the fire i' the blood.

To die, is to be banished from myself.

"Tis the curse in love, and still approved, When women cannot love where they're beloved.

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