Self is a bad counsellor

Put not your hand between the bark and the tree

Plenty is no plague

One man's meat is another man's poison

One beats the bush, and another catches the bird

Nothing must be done hastily but killing of fleas

No man loves his fetters, be they made of gold

New brooms sweep clean

Neither rhyme nor reason

Muck and money go together

Might goes before right

Many a little makes a mickle

Love cannot be forced

Little thieves are hanged, but great ones escape

Like master, like man

Liars need good memories

Last, but not least

It never rains but it pours

It is a long lane that has no turning

If you try to please all you will please none