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He who has a mind to beat a Dog will easily find a Stick; Naught is never in Danger; Faint Heart never won fair Lady.
As sure as God’s in Gloucestershire;  Every Man thinks his own Geese Swans.
Little Pitchers have great Ears;  Many talk of Robin Hood who never shot in his Bow.
Fat Paunches make Lean Pates.
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As you brew so you shall bake; Every bean has its Black; it is an ill wind that blows no body good
I talk of Chalk and you of Cheese; Charity begins at Home; Cut your Coat according to your Cloth;  What can’t be cur’d must be endur’d.
Need makes the old Wife trot;  [woodcut: barefoot old woman hitches up skirts to cross a stream]
He sets the Fox to keep his Geese.  [woodcut: fox watching geese]
Fast bind, fast find;  Like Father like Son.
Sue a Beggar and catch a Louse; Many Hands make Light Work; [woodcut: well-dressed man scratches his head standing near a beggar with outstretched hat]
The Traceys have always the Wind in their Faces; To cut large Thongs out of another Man’s Leather; Too much of one Thing is good for nothing
One scabbed Sheep marrs a whole Flock;  Tread on a Worm and it will turn.
’Tis too late to spare when all is spent;  One Swallow does not make Summer.
Nothing venture, nothing have; Virtue which parleys is near a Surrender.
Curs’d Cows have short Horns; Much falls between the Cup and the Lip.  No longer pipe no longer dance.
Save a Thief from Hanging, and he’ll cut your Throat; Jack will never make a Gentleman.
After sweet Meat comes sour Sauce; [woodcut of stout man, seated, with bandaged foot]
He makes a Rod for his own Breech.
Near is my Shirt, but Nearer is my Skin.
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