A child may have too much of his mother's blessing.

Little children, little sorrows; big children, big sorrows.

Spend and be free, but make no waste.

A multitude of words doth rather obscure than illustrate, they being a burden to the memory, and the first apt to be forgotten, before we come to the last. So that he that uses many words for the explaining of any subject, doth, like the cuttle-fish, hide himself, for the most part, in his own ink.

Feather by feather the goose is plucked.

A maid that laughs is half taken.

Guilt is always jealous