For love is mor than gold or gret richesse; Gold faileth ofte; love wol abyde.
All is not golde that outward shewith bright.
Empty vessels make the most sound.
A voluminous, prosaick, and drivelling Monk.
You can't get blood from a stone.
All is not golde that shewyth goldishe hewe.
Comparisons do ofttime great grievance.
For it ne sits not unto fresh May Forto be coupled to cold January.
Woord is but wynd; leff woord and tak the dede.
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