Were it not for the bone in the legge, all the world would turne Carpenters (to make them crutches).

Old men go to Death, Death comes to Young men.

Hee that falles into the durt, the longer he stayes there, the fowler he is.

Take heed of foul dirty wayes, and long sicknesse.

He that will do thee a good turne, either he will be gon or dye.

The hearts letter is read in the eyes.

The chicken is the country's, but the city eats it.