He has a wolf-conscience.

He has him under his thumb.

He has lost the nest-egg.

He has seen the wolf.

He has the Bible on his lips, but not in his heart.

He heed have plenty of meal who would stop every man's mouth.

He howls with the wolves, and bleats with the sheep.

He invites future injuries who rewards past ones.

He is a man as a book.

He is an aristocrat in folio.

He is an essence of scoundrels.

He is as easily caught as a hare with drums.

He is as good a Catholic as Duke Alva's dog; who ate flesh in Lent.

He is as good a divine as Judas was an apostle.

He is as poor as Job.

He is as sharp as a leaden dagger.

He is as welcome as the first day in Lent. (Alluding to fastday.)

He is no merchant who always gains.

He is noble who performs noble deeds.

He is nobody's enemy but his own.

He is of the race of Johnny Van Cleeve; who would always much rather have than give.

He is so wise, that he goes upon the ice three days before it freezes.

He is too idle to fetch his breath.

He is too stupid to be trusted alone by the fire.

He keeps his word, as the sun keeps butter.