Never Look A Gift Horse In The

Who Waite For Dead Men Shall Goe Long Barefoote.

It Hurts Not The Tongue To Give Faire Words.

She Is Nether Fish Nor Flesh, Nor Good Red Herring.

Thrée Maie A Kepe Counsayle, If Two Be Away.

An Ill Winde That Bloweth No Man To Good.