While The Grasse Groweth The Horse Starveth.

The Still Sowe Eats Up All The Draffe.

When All Candles Are Out, All Cats Are Grey, All Things Are Then Of One Color, As Who Say. And This Proverb Faith, For Quenching Hot Desire, Foul Water As Soon As Faire, Will Quench Hot Fire.

He Must Needes Go That The Dyvell Dryveth.

Every Cocke Is Proud On His Owne Dunghill.

The Grey Mare Is The Better Horse.