Make not thy boost of tomorow, for thou knowest not what maye happen todaye.

Let another ma prayse the, & not thine owne mouth: yee other folkes lippes, and not thyne.

The stone is heuy, and the sonde weightie: but a fooles wrath is heuyer then they both.

Wrath is a cruell thige, and furiousnesse is a very tempest: yee who is able to abyde envye?

An open rebuke is better, then a secrete loue.

Faithfull are the woundes of a louer, but ye kysses of an enemie are disceatfull.

He that is full, abhorreth an hony combe: but vnto him that is hogrie, euery sower thinge is swete.

He that oft tymes flytteth, is like a byrde yt forsaketh hir nest.

The herte is glad of a swete oyntment and sauoure, but a stomacke that ca geue good councell, reioyseth a mans neghboure.

Thyne owne frende and thy fathers frende se thou forsake not, but go not in to thy brothers house in tyme of thy trouble. Better is a frende at hode, then a brother farre of.

My sonne, be wyse, and thou shalt make me a glad herte: so that I shal make answere vnto my rebukers.

A wyse man seynge the plage wyl hyde him self, as for fooles they go on still, and suffer harme.

Take his garment that is suertie for a straunger, & take a pledge of him for the vnknowne mans sake.

He that is to hastie to praise his neghboure aboue measure, shalbe taken as one yt geueth him an euell reporte.

A brawlynge woman and the rofe of the house droppynge in a raynie daye, maye well be compared together.

He that refrayneth her, refrayneth the wynde, and holdeth oyle fast in his hode.

Like as one yro whetteth another, so doth one man comforte another.

Who so kepeth his fyge tre, shal enioye the frutes therof: he that wayteth vpon his master, shal come to honoure.

Like as in one water there apeare dyuerse faces, eue so dyuerse men haue dyuerse hertes.

Like as hell & destruccion are neuer full, euen so the eyes of me can neuer be satisfied.

Syluer is tryed in the moulde, & golde in the fornace, & so is a man, whan he is openly praysed to his face.

Though thou shuldest bray a foole wt a pestell in a morter like otemeell, yet wil not his foolishnesse go from him.

Se yt thou knowe the nombre of thy catell thy self, and loke well to thy flockes.

For riches abyde not allwaye, & the crowne endureth not for euer.

The hay groweth, ye grasse cometh vp, & herbes are gathered in ye mountaines.

The lambes shal clothe the, & for the goates thou shalt haue money to yi hu?bondry.

Thou shalt haue goates mylck ynough to fede the, to vpholde thy husholde, & to susteyne thy maydens.