The Proverb Is Something Musty.

Let Not Our Babbling Dreams Affright Our Souls; Conscience Is But A Work That Cowards Use, Devised At First To Keep The Strong In Awe: Our Strong Arms Be Our Conscience, Swords Our Law!

If Thou Engrossest All The Griefs Are Thine, Thou Robb'st Me Of A Moiety.

Though Men Can Cover Crimes With Bold, Stern Looks, Poor Women's Faces Are Their Own Faults' Books.

It Is The Bright Day That Brings Forth The Adder, And That Craves Wary Walking.

In Brief, Sir, Study What You Most Affect.