Time tries the troth in everything.
Make hunger thy sauce, as a medicine for health.
If a garden require it, now trench it ye may, one trench not a yard, from another go lay; Which being well filled with muck by and by, to cover with mould, for a season to lie.
February, fill the dyke with what thou dost like.
A fool and his money be soon at debate
What a greater crime. Than loss of time.