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... Better is to boow then breake. It hurteth not the tounge to geue fayre wurdis. The rough net is not the best catcher of Burdis. Sense ye can nought wyn, if ye can not please, Best is to suffre: For of sufferance comth ease.
John Heywood -
This wonder (as wonders last) lasted nine daies.
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 -
Be the day never so long,Evermore at last they ring to evensong.
John Heywood -
Much water goeth by the millThat the miller knoweth not of.
John Heywood -
And also I shall to reueng former hurtis, Hold their noses to grinstone, and syt on theyr skurtis.
John Heywood -
Three may keepe counsayle, if two be away.
John Heywood -
Though chaunge be no robbry.
John Heywood
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More frayd then hurt.
John Heywood -
Rome was not built in one daie (quoth he) and yet stood Till it was finist, as some say, full faire.
John Heywood -
Ill weede growth fast.
John Heywood -
New brome swepth cleene.
John Heywood -
The greatest Clerkes be not the wisest men.
John Heywood -
Enough is as good as a feast.
John Heywood
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For whan I gaue you an ynche, ye tooke an ell.
John Heywood -
She is nether fish nor flesh, nor good red herring.
John Heywood -
A heare of the dog that bote vs last night.
John Heywood -
Out of Gods blessing into the warme Sunne.
John Heywood -
A peny for your thought.
John Heywood -
Every cocke is proud on his owne dunghill.
John Heywood
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Better to give then to take.
John Heywood -
Those who agree with us may not be right, but we admire their astuteness.
John Heywood -
You stand in your owne light.
John Heywood -
Marke ye, how she hitteth me on the thombis (quoth hée) And ye taunt me tyt ouer thumb (quoth shée) Sens tyt for tat (quoth I) on euen hand is set.
John Heywood