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One swallow maketh not summer.
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Well aunt (quoth Ales) all is well that endes well. Ye Ales, of a good begynnyng comth a good end.
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Marke ye, how she hitteth me on the thombis (quoth hée) And ye taunt me tyt ouer thumb (quoth shée) Sens tyt for tat (quoth I) on euen hand is set.
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Time is tickell, and out of sight out of minde. Than catche and holde while I may, fast binde fast finde.
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It is a deere collopThat is cut out of th' owne flesh.
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Pryde will have a fall;For pryde goeth before and shame commeth after.
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It will not out of the flesh that is bred in the bone.
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He must needes goe whom the devill doth drive.