Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
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Search results for Early 17th century
490 allegories found
Page 12 of 49
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It is a wise father that knows his own child.
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I will praise any man that will praise me.
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The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on.
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O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on.
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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.
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How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!
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Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.
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Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.
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I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
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