John Heywood

Yes yes (quoth she) for all those wyse woordis vttred, I know on which syde my bread is buttred. But there will no butter cleaue on my breade. And on my bread any butter to be spreade. Euery promise that thou therin dost vtter, Is as sure as it were sealed with butter.

While the grasse groweth the horse starveth.

A penny for your thought.

The rolling stone never gathereth mosse.

Though ye loue not to bye the pyg in the poke, Yet snatche ye at the poke, that the pyg is in, Not for the poke, but the pyg good chepe to wyn.

A woman hath nine lives like a cat.

When the iron is hot, strike.

Many handis make light warke.

When all candels be out, all cats be grey, All thingis are then of one colour, as who sey. And this prouerbe faith, for quenching hot desyre, Foul water as soone as fayre, will quenche hot fyre.

Happy man, happy dole.

Enough is as good as a feast.

Children learne to creepe ere they can learne to goe.

Well aunt (quoth Ales) all is well that endes well. Ye Ales, of a good begynnyng comth a good end.

Cut my cote after my cloth.

Out of Gods blessing into the warme Sunne.