A journying woman speakes much of all, and all of her.
Hee that falles into the durt, the longer he stayes there, the fowler he is.
Hee that loves the tree, loves the branch.
Hee goes not out of his way, that goes to a good Inne.
You may be on land, yet not in a garden.
Hee lookes not well to himselfe that lookes not ever.