Suspicions amongst thoughts are like bats amongst birds, they ever fly by twilight. Certainly they are to be repressed, or at the least well guarded; for they cloud the mind, they lose friends, and they check with business, whereby business cannot go on currently and constantly. They dispose kings to tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise men to irresolution and melancholy. They are defects, not in the heart, but in the brain; for they take place in the stoutest natures, as in the example of Henry the Seventh of England. There was not a more suspicious man, nor a more stout; and in such a composition they do small hurt, for commonly they are not admitted but with examination, whether they be likely or not. But in fearful natures they gain ground too fast. There is nothing makes a man suspect much, more than to know little; and therefore men should remedy suspicion by procuring to know more, and not to keep their suspicions in smother. Suspicions that the mind of itself gathers are but buzzes, but suspicions that are artificially nourished, and put into men's heads by the tales and whisperings of others, have stings. Certainly the best mean to clear the way in this same wood of suspicion is frankly to communicate them with the party that he suspects; for thereby he shall be sure to know more of the truth of them, and withal shall make that party more circumspect not to give further cause of suspicion.