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A Shoemaker must not go beyond his Last

’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.

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

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

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

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

Fast bind, fast find; Like Father like Son.

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.

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.

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]

As you brew so you shall bake; Every bean has its Black; it is an ill wind that blows no body good

He makes a Rod for his own Breech.

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

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

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Fat Paunches make Lean Pates.

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