Who spits against heaven, it falls in his face.

Feare keepes the garden better then the gardiner.

Take heede of an oxe before, of an horse behind, of a monke on all sides.

Throw away thy rod, throw away thy wrath; O my God, take the gentle path.

One enemy is too much.

Hee that bewailes himselfe hath the cure in his hands.

Chuse none for thy servant who have served thy betters.