The groundsell speakes not save what it heard at the hinges.
Good is the mora that makes all sure.
Every one hath a foole in his sleeve.
If a good man thrive, all thrive with him.
God keepe me from foure houses, an Vsurers, a Taverne, a Spittle, and a Prison.
The tree that growes slowly, keepes it selfe for another.