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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,
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.
All impediments in fancy's course
A lady's verily is As potent as a lord's.
A sad tale 's best for winter.
A merry heart goes all the day,
Affliction may subdue the cheek,
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
At hand, quoth pick-purse !
A habitation giddy and unsure
A good heart's worth gold.
A rotten case abides no handling.
Against ill chances men are ever merry,
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
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,
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;
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
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
A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin.