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

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

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.

Fat Paunches make Lean Pates.

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

He sets the Fox to keep his Geese. [woodcut: fox watching geese]

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

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]

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

Harm watch, Harm catch; It is a good Horse that never stumbles.

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

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

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

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