John Heywood Quotes

Tis not the robe or garment I affect; For who would marry with a suit of clothes?

Would ye both eat your cake and have your cake? This is commonly misquotes as You can't have you're cake and eat it, too.

It had need to bee A wylie mouse that should breed in the cats eare.

Be of comfort, and your heavy sorrow Part equally among us; storms divided, Abate their force, and with less rage are guided.

I know on which side my bread is buttered.

Better to be happy than wise.

The grey mare is the better horse.

When the sunne shineth, make hay.

Pryde will have a fall;For pryde goeth before and shame commeth after.

The tide tarrieth no man.

The wise man sayth, store is no sore.

When the sun shineth, make hay.

Let the world slide, let the world go; A fig for care, and a fig for woe! If I can't pay, why I can owe, And death makes equal the high and low.

It is good the have a hatch before the durre.

I pray thee let me and my fellow have a haire of the dog that bit us last night.

Half a loaf is better than none.

It is a foul bird that filleth his own nest.

A woman hath nine lives like a cat.

Who will in time present pleasure refrain, shall in time to come the more pleasure obtain.

The rolling stone never gathereth mosse.

There is no fyre without some smoke.

Every cocke is proud on his owne dunghill.

Let the world wagge, and take mine ease in myne Inne.

One swallow never makes a summer.

It is a foule byrd that fyleth his owne nest.

Prove your friend ere you have need, but in deed A friend is never known till a man have need.

Every dog has its day.

Hunger makes hard beans sweet.

God never sends the mouth but he sendeth meat.

Better one byrde in hand than ten in the wood.

Feed by measure, and defy the physician.

Children and fooles cannot lye.

The cat would eate fish, and would not wet her feete.

While the grasse groweth the horse starveth.

The more haste, the less speed.

Ill wéede growth fast.

Love me litle, love me long.

Put your toong in your purse.

It is a poor dog that is not worth the whistling

It will not out of the flesh that is bred in the bone.

Much water goeth by the millThat the miller knoweth not of.

Many handis make light warke.

Burnt child fire dredth.

All is fish that comth to net.

When the steede is stolne, shut the stable durre.

I perfectly feele even at my fingers end.

Who waiteth for dead man's shoes will go long barefoot.

Praie and shifte eche one for him selfe, as he can.Euery man for him selfe, and god for us all.

Who is wurs shod, than the shoemakers wyfe,With shops full of shoes all hir lyfe?

The still sowe eats up all the draffe.