The gentle Hawke halfe mans her selfe.
If the staffe be crooked, the shadow cannot be straight.
To weepe for joy is a kinde of Manna.
Hee that falles into the durt, the longer he stayes there, the fowler he is.
A wicked mans gift hath a touch of his master.
He is not poore that hath little, but he that desireth much.