To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess

So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.

O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, leave not the mansion so long tenantless; lest, growing ruinous, the building fall and leave no memory of what it was!

Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall.

The proverb is something musty.

RUMOUR: "Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.

Thou art the Mars of malcontents.