If you could runne, as you drinke, you might catch a hare.

Bee not a Baker, if your head be of butter.

All are presumed good till they are found at fault.

Ill comes in by ells, and goes out by inches.

He that hath hornes in his bosom, let him not put them on his head.

Wisedome hath one foot on Land, and another on Sea.

Woe to the house where there is no chiding.