Timely crooks the tree, that will good cammock be

They are well guided that God guides

There’s many a good tune played on an old fiddle

Three women and a goose make a market

Thy secret is thy prisoner; if thou let it go, thou art a prisoner to it

Though God take the sun out of heaven, yet we must have patience

You shall go safest in the middle course

You have got to keep at it

You may speak with your gold, and make other tongues dumb

You cannot have too much of a good thing

You can have too much of a good thing

You can’t go home again

Words are men’s daughters, but God’s sons are things

Whom gods would destroy, they first make mad

Who gives no thanks to men, gives not thanks to God

Who goes to bed supperless, all night tumbles and tosses

Who goes the worst shod? The cobbler’s wife

Who hath a good trade, through all waters may wade

There’s many a good cock come out of a tattered bag

Where there is peace, God is

Where we least think there goes the hare away

Where every man is a master the world goes mad

When flatterers meet, the devil goes to dinner

When gold speaks, you may hold your tongue

When good cheer is lacking, our friends will be packing

When a man is going down-hill, everyone will give him a push

What is got over the devil’s back is spent under his belly

What is the good of a sundial in the shade?

What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander

What cannot gold do?

What goes up must come down

What is bred in the bone will not go (come) out of the flesh

We weeping come into the world, and weeping hence we go

We know not what is good until we have lost it

We may not expect a good whelp from an ill dog

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