There are mae wayes to the wood nor ane.
He that is evil deem'd is half hang'd.
Poor men (they say) have no souls.
Racklesse youth makes a goustie Age.
Need hes no law.
Blaw the wind nere so saft, it will lowen at the last.
Ane may lead a Horse to the water, but four and twenty cannot gar him drink.
He is blind that eats his marrow, but far blinder that lets him.
It will come in an hour, that will not come in a year.
Better two skaiths, nor ane sorrow.