While The Grasse Groweth The Horse Starveth.

Pryde Will Have A Fall;for Pryde Goeth Before And Shame Commeth After.

The Grey Mare Is The Better Horse.

It Is A Poor Dog That Is Not Worth The Whistling

The Rolling Stone Never Gathereth Mosse.

Let The World Slide, Let The World Go; A Fig For Care, And A Fig For Woe! If I Can't Pay, Why I Can Owe, And Death Makes Equal The High And Low.