| 
, nor short, to things that are no more
     There is no merchant that always gains
     There is no reason that has not its contrary
     There is no recompense becomes virtue
     There is none of us who would not be worse than kings
     There is nothing I hate so much as driving a bargain
     There is nothing like alluring the appetite and affections
     There is nothing single and rare in respect of nature
     These sleepy, sluggish sort of men are often the most dangerous
     They (good women) are not by the dozen, as every one knows
     They begin to teach us to live when we have almost done living
     They better conquer us by flying
     They buy a cat in a sack
     They can neither lend nor give anything to one another
     They do not see my heart, they see but my countenance
     They err as much who too much forbear Venus
     They gently name them, so they patiently endure them (diseases)
     They have heard, they have seen, they have done so and so
     They have not one more invention left wherewith to amuse us
     They have not the courage to suffer themselves to be corrected
     They have yet touched nothing of that which is mine
     They juggle and trifle in all their discourses at our expense
     They must be very hard to please, if they are not contented
     They must become insensible and invisible to satisfy us
     They neither instruct us to think well nor to do well
     They never loved them till dead
     They who would fight custom with grammar are triflers
     Thing at which we all aim, even in virtue is pleasure
     Things grow familiar to men's minds by being often seen
     Things I say are better than those I write
     Things often appear greater to us at distance than near at hand
     Things seem greater by imagination than they are in effect
     Things that engage us elsewhere and separate us from ourselves
     Think myself no longer worth my own care
     Think of physic as much good or ill as any one would have me
     Thinking nothing done, if anything remained to be done
     Thinks nothing profitable that is not painful
     This decay of nature which renders him useless, burdensome
     This plodding occupation of bookes is as painfull as any other
     Those immodest and debauched tricks and postures
     Those oppressed with sorrow sometimes surprised by a smile
     Those which we fear the least are, peradventure, most to be fear
     Those who can ple
     |