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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.

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.

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

’Tis too late to spare when all is spent; One Swallow does not make Summer.

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

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

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

A scan of blank paper for use in backgrounds (public domain)

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

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

A Burnt Child dreads the Fire

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

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]

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

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]

title page

Near is my Shirt, but Nearer is my Skin.

Fat Paunches make Lean Pates.

To buy a Pig in a poke; Robin Hood’s Pennyworths; He looks one way and rows another.

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