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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]

Near is my Shirt, but Nearer is my Skin.

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.

Many Words will not fill a Bushel; The younger Brother the better Gentleman.

A Fool’s Bolt is soon shot; Birds of a Feather flock together; Out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire.

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

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

Fat Paunches make Lean Pates.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Give him a Rowland for his Oliver; Penny Wise, and Pound Foolish; He that Reckons without his Host must reckon again.

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An old Dog will learn no Tricks; If you trust before you try, You may repent before you die.

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

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