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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

Near is my Shirt, but Nearer is my Skin.

Need makes the old Wife trot; [woodcut: barefoot old woman hitches up skirts to cross a stream]

One good Turn deserves another; He steals a Goose, and gives the Giblets in Alms.

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

Fast bind, fast find; Like Father like Son.

Nothing venture, nothing have; Virtue which parleys is near a Surrender.

The more Haste the worse Speed; When the Sky falls we shall catch Larks.

Curs’d Cows have short Horns; Much falls between the Cup and the Lip. No longer pipe no longer dance.

Good Wine needs no Bush; Kissing goes by Favour; A Lark is better than a Kite

When the Steed’s stolen, shut the Stable Door.

As sure as God’s in Gloucestershire; Every Man thinks his own Geese Swans.

Fat Paunches make Lean Pates.

Save a Thief from Hanging, and he’ll cut your Throat; Jack will never make a Gentleman.

Brag is a good Dog, but Holdfast is a better; The Belly has no Ears; [woodcut: mouse by house perhaps made from candle with snuffer]

A Shoemaker must not go beyond his Last

Little Pitchers have great Ears; Many talk of Robin Hood who never shot in his Bow.

What is bred in the Bone will never be out of the Flesh; One Bird in the Hand is worth two in the Bush; A Cat may look upon a king.

He makes a Rod for his own Breech.

Proferred Service stinks; The Receiver is as bad as the Thief; Reckon not your Chickens before they are hatched.

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