Why should you fear the truth to tell?
Does falsehood ever do you so well?
Can you be satisfied to know
There's something wrong to hide below
No! let your fault be what it may,
To own it is the happy way.
So long as you your crime conceal,
You cannot light or gladsome feel;
Your heart will ever feel oppressed,
As if a weight were on your breast:
And e'en your mother's eye to meet
Will tinge your face with shame and heat.