Use your friend as ye would have him.
Unskilfull mediciners, and horse-marshels slayes, both man and beast.
Use makes perfectnesse.
Well done, soon done.
Wonder lasts but nine nights in a Town.
We have a craw to pluck.
Whatrax my Jo, I ken your coptan.
Wrang hes no warrand.
Wont beguil'd the Lady.
Wit in a poor mans head, and mosse in a mountain, avails nothing.
Weil is that weil does.
Well good-mother-daughter.
Whatrax of the seed, where the frendship dow not.
Wood in wildernesse, & strength in a fool.
Weapons bodes peace.
Wiles help weak folk.
Waken not sleeping dogs.
Women and bairns keep counsell of that they ken not.
We hounds flew the Hare, quoth the messoun.
Wishers and woulders are poor householders.
Weil worth aw, that gars the plough draw.
Words are but winde, but dunts are the Devill.
With empty hand no man should hawks allure.
Wark bears witnesse who weil does.
Wrang hearing makes wrang rehearsing.
Wealth gars wit waver.
Weil bides, weil betides.
Wrong count is no payment.
Ye should be a King of your word.
Your winning is no my tinsel.
Ye may puind for debt, but not for unkindnesse.
Ye learn your Father to get bairns.
Ye will break your crag as soon as your fast in his house.
Ye ride a bootlesse errand.
Ye may not sit inRome, and strive with the Pope.
Ye seek grace at a gracelesse face.
Ye strive against the stream.
Ye drive a Snail toRome.
Youth never casts for peril.
Ye seek hot water under cold ice.
Ye breed of the cat, ye would fain have fish, but ye have na will to wet your feet.
Youth and age will never agree.
Ye will get war bodes ere Beltan.
Ye breed of the gouk, ye have not a rime but ane.
Ye may drink of the burn, but not bite of the brae.
Ye cannot make a silk purse of a sows lug.
Ye have a face to God, and another to the Devil.
Ye breed of the Millers dog, ye lick your lips ere the poke be open.
Ye would doe little for God, and the Devil were dead.
Ye have a ready mouth for a ripe cherry.