It's No Use Closing The Barn Door

And While I At Length Debate And Beate The Bush, There Shall Steppe In Other Men And Catch The Burdes.

No Man Loveth His Fetters, Be They Made Of Gold.

A Fooles Bolt Is Soone Shot.

But Now I See Well The Old Proverb Is True: That Parish Priest Forgetteth That Ever He Was A Clerk!

It Had Need To Bee A Wylie Mouse That Should Breed In The Cats Eare.