The tooth-ach is more ease then to deale with ill people.
The tree that growes slowly, keepes it selfe for another.
The vertue of a coward is suspition.
The way is an ill neighbour.
The wife is the key of the house.
The wolfe eats oft of the sheep that have been warn’d.
The world is now adayes, God save the Conquerour.
The wrongs of a Husband or Master are not reproached.
The yeare doth nothing else but open and shut.
Ther’s no great banquet but some fares ill.
There are three waies, the Vniversities, the Sea, the Court.
There come nought out of the sacke but what was there.
There is a remedy for every thing, could men find it.
There is no body will go to hell for company.
There is no heat of affection but is joyned with some idlenesse of brain, says the Spaniard.
There is no man, though never so little, but sometimes he can hurt.
There needs a long time to know the worlds pulse.
There were no ill language, if it were not ill taken.
There’s no such conquering weapon as the necessity of conquering.
They talke of Christmas so long, that it comes.