He Plaies Well That Winnes. [he Plays

I Had Rather Aske Of My Sire Browne Bread, Then Borrow Of My Neighbour White.

There Come Nought Out Of The Sacke But What Was There.

Of A Pigs Taile You Can Never Make A Good Shaft. [of A Pig's Tail You Can Never Make A Good Shaft.]

Only A Sweet And Virtuous Soul, Like Season'd Timbered, Never Gives; But Though The Whole World Turn To Coal, Then Chiefly Lives.

It's A Proud Horse That Will Not Carry His Owne Provender.