A thorn goes into the hand of a drunkard So is a proverb in the mouth of fools.
“They smote me, I was not sick! They beat me, I did not know! When shall I wake up? Let me seek it again!”
An archer who wounds anyone, Is he who hires a fool or any passer-by.
Like one binding a stone in a sling, So is he who gives esteem to a fool.