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Better play at small Game than stand out; Give him a Rowland for his Oliver.

Well begun is half ended; All is well that ends well.

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]

One scabbed Sheep marrs a whole Flock; Tread on a Worm and it will turn.

It’s neither Rhime nor Reason; What is got over the Devil’s Back will be spent under his Belly.

Hungry Dogs will eat dirty Pudding; He that would live at Peace and Rest, Must hear and see, and say the Best.

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

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

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

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.

After sweet Meat comes sour Sauce; [woodcut of stout man, seated, with bandaged foot]

Fast bind, fast find; Like Father like Son.

One Man had better steal a Horse than another look over the Hedge; [woodcut: highayman with hat and cape leads a horse]

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

All goes down Gutter-lane; As Wise as a Man of Gotham; As good as George of Green; [woodcut: stout man drinks from mug, holds saussage with a fork]

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

Near is my Shirt, but Nearer is my Skin.

A Rolling Stone gathers no Moss; It is good to make Hay while the Sun shines.

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

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

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