Or shear swine, all cry and no wool. - Samuel Butler

For Rhime the Rudder is of Verses, With which like Ships they steer their courses.

But Hudibras gave him a twitch
As quick as lightning in the breech,
Just in the place where honour's lodg'd,
As wise philosophers have judg'd;
Because a kick in that part more
Hurts honour than deep wounds before.

This Light inspires, and plays upon The nose of Saint like Bag-pipe drone, And speaks through hollow empty Soul, As through a Trunk, or whisp'ring hole, Such language as no mortal Ear But spiritual Eve-droppers can hear.