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All that glisters is not gold.

As all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.

All's brave that youth mounts and folly guides.

A woman's thought runs before her actions.

Aged honour cites a virtuous youth.

A young man married is a man that's marr'd.

A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner ; but one that lies three-thirds, and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard, and thrice beaten.

All's well that ends well; still the fine's the

crown; Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.

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Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.

A little snow, tumbled about, Anon becomes a mountain.

All places that the eye of heaven visits
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.

At hand, quoth pick-purse!

A habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.

A good heart's worth gold.

A rotten case abides no handling.

Against ill chances men are ever merry,
But heaviness foreruns the good event.

А peace

is of the nature of a conquest ; For then both parties nobly are subdued, And neither party loser.

An honest man is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.

Advantage is a better soldier than rashness.

A fool's bolt is soon shot.

A surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings.

A good leg will fall, a straight back will stoop, a black beard will turn white, a curled pate will grow bald, a fair face will wither, a full eye will wax hollow; but a good heart is the sun and moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon, for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly.

An evil soul, producing holy witness,
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek;
A goodly apple rotten at the heart.

A friend i' the court is better than a penny in purse.

A crafty knave does need no broker.

A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.

A subtle traitor needs no sophister.

A little fire is quickly trodden out;
Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench.

An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.

A beggar's book out-worths a noble’s blood.


Anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him.

All hoods make not monks.

A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a sleeping giant.

All, with one consent, praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded of things

past, And give to dust, that is a little gilt, More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.


A woman impudent and mannish

grown Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man In time of action.

A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.


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