A dead Bee maketh no Hony.
Wisedome hath one foot on Land, and another on Sea.
In war, hunting, and love, men for one pleasure a thousand griefes prove.
God's breath in man returning to his birth, The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage.
Slander is a shipwrack by a dry Tempest.
To seek these things is lost labour; Geese in an oyle pot, fat Hogs among Jews, and Wine in a fishing net.