Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
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Search results for 18th century
444 allegories found
Page 11 of 45
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I will praise any man that will praise me.
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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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I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
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The quality of mercy is not strain'd, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath.
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Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.
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Though she be but little, she is fierce!
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