Hee that hath one hogge makes him fat, and hee that hath one son makes him a foole.
To live peaceably with all breedes good blood.
The horse that drawes after him his halter, is not altogether escaped.
Hee hath not liv'd, that lives not after death.
Praise none too much, for all are fickle.
Before you make a friend, eate a bushell of salt with him.