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While betweene two stooles my taile goe to the ground.
John Heywood
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Better is halfe a lofe than no bread.
John Heywood
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What man, loue me, loue me dog.
John Heywood
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To hold with the hare and run with the hound.
John Heywood
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She frieth in her owne grease.
John Heywood
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Who waite for dead men shall goe long barefoote.
John Heywood
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No man ought to looke a given horse in the mouth.
John Heywood
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Nought venter nought have.
John Heywood
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Burnt child fire dredth.
John Heywood
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The loss of wealth is loss of dirt, as sages in all times assert; The happy man's without a shirt.
John Heywood
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You stand in your owne light.
John Heywood
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Cut my cote after my cloth.
John Heywood
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When the iron is hot, strike.
John Heywood
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And while I at length debate and beate the bushe, There shall steppe in other men, and catche the burdes, And by long time lost in many vayne wurdes.
John Heywood
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Lyke a pyckpurs pilgrim, ye prie and ye proule At rouers, to rob Peter and paie Poule.
John Heywood
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Set all at sixe and seven.
John Heywood
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And also I shall to reueng former hurtis, Hold their noses to grinstone, and syt on theyr skurtis.
John Heywood
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Beggars should be no choosers.
John Heywood
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To robbe Peter and pay Poule.
John Heywood
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There is no fyre without some smoke.
John Heywood
