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Yes yes (quoth she) for all those wyse woordis vttred, I know on which syde my bread is buttred. But there will no butter cleaue on my breade. And on my bread any butter to be spreade. Euery promise that thou therin dost vtter, Is as sure as it were sealed with butter.
John Heywood
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To th' end of a shot and beginning of a fray.
John Heywood
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Ill weede growth fast.
John Heywood
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Nought venter nought have.
John Heywood
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All is fish that comth to net.
John Heywood
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Better is halfe a lofe than no bread.
John Heywood
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The grey mare is the better horse.
John Heywood
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There is no fyre without some smoke.
John Heywood
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Ye set circumquaques to make me beleue Or thinke, that the moone is made of gréene chéese.
John Heywood
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Who hopeth in Gods helpe, his helpe can not starte: Nothing is impossible to a willyng hart, And will maie wyn my herte, herein to consent, To take all thinges as it cometh, and be content.
John Heywood
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Though chaunge be no robbry.
John Heywood
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A man may well bring a horse to the water,But he cannot make him drinke without he will.
John Heywood
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An yll wynde that blowth no man to good.
John Heywood
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What man, loue me, loue me dog.
John Heywood
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Who is wurs shod, than the shoemakers wyfe, With shops full of shoes all hir lyfe?
John Heywood
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Som thingis that prouoke young men to wed in haste, Show after weddyng, that hast maketh waste.
John Heywood
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Beggars should be no choosers.
John Heywood
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Love me litle, love me long.
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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All is not Gospell that thou doest speake.
John Heywood
