This is the usual Strain of such as you. They would have every body as blind as themselves: To be clear-sighted is Libertinism, and such as don't dote on empty Grimaces, have neither Faith nor Respect to sacred things. Come, come, all this Discourse of yours frights not me; I know what I say, and Heaven sees my Heart.
[tr. Clitandre (1672)]

The usual clap-trap of your set; they wish everyone to be blind like themselves. To keep one's eyes open is to be a free-thinker; and whosoever does not worship pretentious affection has neither respect for, nor faith in holy things. Go along; all your speeches do not frighten me; I know what I am saying, and Heaven sees my heart.
[tr. Van Laun (1876)]

Tut! This is the usual way of talking with such as you. They want everybody to be as blind as they are: to see clearly is to be a freethinking; and not to worship empty show is to act from a want of faith and of respect for holy things. Believe me, all your denunciations do not frighten me: I know what I say, and God sees my heart.
[tr. Wall (1879)]

This is the usual style of such as you. They would have every one as blind as themselves; to be clear-sighted is libertinism, and those who do not like foolish grimaces, have neither faith nor respect for holy things. All your talk does not frighten me, I know how I speak, and heaven sees my heart.
[tr. Mathew (1890)]

That is the usual style of talking among your set; they want everyone to be as blind as themselves. To be clear-sighted is to be a free-thinker, and he who does not bow down to idle affectations has neither respect for nor faith in sacred things. I tell you none of your sermons frighten me: I know what I say, and Heaven sees my heart.
[tr. Waller (1903)]

That is the usual strain of all your kind;
They must have every one as blind as they.
They call you atheist if you have good eyes;
And if you don't adore their vain grimaces,
You've neither faith nor care for sacred things.
No, no; such talk can't frighten me; I know
What I am saying; heaven sees my heart.
[tr. Page (1909)]

I've heard that kind of talk from others like you.
They want to make the whole world blind like them.
It's irreligion just to have open eyes!
If you're not taken in by mummery,
They say you've no respect for sacred things.
You cannot scare me with that sort of language.
I know what I say, and heaven can see my heart.
[tr. Bishop (1957)]

So I've been told before by dupes like you:
Being blind, you'd have all others blind as well;
The clear-eyed man you call an infidel,
And he who sees through humbug and pretense
Is charged, by you, with want of reverence.
Spare me your warnings, Brother; I have no fear
Of speaking out, for you and Heaven to hear.
[tr. Wilbur (1963), 1.5]

Your kind
All talk like that -- because you're blind
You'd rather others didn't see,
You deem perceptiveness to be
A kind of sin! Let us adore
The idols that you kneel before
Or else be damned! Well listen here;
Your sermons don't fill me with fear:
I know my subject, for a start
And Heaven sees into my heart.
[tr. Bolt (2002)]

People like you always say things like that. They want everyone to be as blind as they are. They think that seeing clearly is impiety, that those who refuse to worship false idols have no respect for true faith and true religion. Such talk doesn’t frighten me; I know what I’m saying, and Heaven itself knows what I think.
[tr. Steiner (2008), 1.5]

That's how people like you always talk:
You want everyone else to be as blind as you are.
It's disrespectful to have a pair of functioning eyes, is it?
And anyone who doesn't love empty pretence and show and mindless drivel
Has no respect for faith or sacred things.
Come on, all your nonsense doesn't scare me at all:
Heaven sees my heart.
[tr. Campbell (2013)]

In fact, were it given to our eye of flesh to see into the consciences of others, we should judge a man much more surely from what he dreams than from what he thinks.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]

In fact, if our eyes of the flesh were allowed to peer into the consciences of our neighbor, a man could be judged far more surely from what he dreams than from what he thinks.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]

In fact, had it been given to our eyes of the flesh to gaze into the consciences of others, we should be able to judge a man much more surely according to what he dreams, than according to what he thinks.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]

Indeed, if our earthly eyes possessed this power of seeing into the hearts of others, we would judge men far more surely by their dreams than by their thoughts.
[tr. Denny (1976)]

For had it been given to our eyes of flesh to see into the conscience of others, our judgment of a man would be much sounder were it based on what he dreams rather than on what he thinks.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]

One can no more prevent the mind from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to a shore. In the case of the sailor, this is called the tide; in the case of the guilty, it is called remorse. God upheaves the soul as well as the ocean.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]

It is no more possible to prevent thought from reverting to an idea than the sea from returning to the shore. With the sailor this is called the tide; with the culprit it is called remorse; God heaves the soul like the ocean.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]

One can no more prevent thought from recurring to an idea than one can the sea from returning to the shore: the sailor calls it the tide; the guilty man calls it remorse; God upheaves the soul as he does the ocean.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]

We can no more prevent a thought returning to the mind than we can prevent the sea from rising on the foreshore. To the sailor it is the tide, to the uneasy conscience it is remorse. God moves the soul as He moves the oceans.
[tr. Denny (1976)]

The mind is no more to be prevented from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to the shore. For the sailor this is called the tide. For the guilty man, it is called remorse. God stirs the soul as he causes the ocean to swell.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]

But that you hear this or that judgment as the voice of conscience, consequently, that you feel a thing to be right -- may have its cause in the fact that you have never reflected about yourself, and have blindly accepted from your childhood what has been designated to you as right.
[tr. Common (1911)]

But that you take this or that judgment for the voice of conscience -- in other words, that you feel something to be right -- may be due to the fact that you have never thought much about yourself and simply have accepted blindly that what you had been told ever since your childhood was right.
[tr. Kaufmann (1974)]

But that you hear this or that judgement as the words of conscience, i.e., that you feel something to be right may have its cause in your never having thought much about yourself and in blindly having accepted what has been labeled right since your childhood.
[tr. Nauckhoff (2001)]

What Saith thy Conscience? -- "Thou shalt become what thou art."
[tr. Common (1911)]

What does your conscience say? -- "You shall become the person you are."
[tr. Kaufmann (1974)]

What does your conscience say? "You shall become who you are."
[tr. Hill (2018)]

The main misfortune, the root of all evil to come, was loss of the confidence in the value of one's own opinion. People imagined that it was out of date of follow their own moral sense, that they must all sing in chorus, and live by other people's notions, notions that were crammed down everybody's throat.
[tr. Hayward & Harari (1958), US ed.]

The main trouble, the root of the future evil, was loss of faith in the value of one’s own opinion. People imagined that the time when they followed the urgings of their moral sense was gone, that now they had to sing to the general tune and live by foreign notions imposed on everyone.
[tr. Pevear & Volokhonsky (2010)]

O matchless dignity of stainless thought!
Thus bitter seems to you the taste of Sin!
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 2]

O clear conscience and upright
How doth a little sting wound thee sore!
[tr. Cary (1814)]

Oh, dignity of conscience, when complete,
How small will bitter make that once was sweet!
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]

O noble conscience, and without a stain,
How sharp a sting is trivial fault to thee!
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]

O conscience, dignified and pure, how bitter a sting is a small fault to thee!
[tr. Butler (1885)]

O conscience honourably pure, to thee
How is a little fault most bitterly shrived!
[tr. Minchin (1885)]

O conscience, upright and stainless, how bitter a sting to thee is little fault!
[tr. Norton (1892)]

O noble conscience and clear, how sharp a sting gives a little fault to thee!
[tr. Wicksteed (1899)]

O pure and noble conscience, how bitter a sting to thee is a little fault!
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]

O honourable conscience, clear and chaste,
How small a fault stings thee to bitter smart!
[tr. Binyon (1943)]

O noble conscience, clear and undefaced,
How keen thy self-reproach for one small slip!
[tr. Sayers (1955)]

O noble conscience without stain! how sharp
the sting of a small fault is to your sense!
[tr. Ciardi (1961)]

O pure and noble conscience, how bitter
a sting is a little fault to you!
[tr. Singleton (1973)]

O dignity of conscience, noble, chaste,
how one slight fault can sting you into shame!
[tr. Musa (1981)]

O conscience so precious and so clear,
How small a fault is a sharp tooth to you!
[tr. Sisson (1981)]

O pure and noble conscience, you in whom
each petty fault becomes a harsh rebuke!
[tr. Mandelbaum (1982)]

O worthy clear conscience, how bitter a bite to you is even a little fault!
[tr. Durling (2003)]

Such dignity of conscience, clear and clean,
bitten so keenly by so slight a fault!
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2007)]

O pure and noble conscience,
how bitter is the sting of your least fault!
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]

But O, how purest consciences are stung
By tiny faults, bitter on noble tongues!
[tr. Raffel (2010)]

SUNDAY SCHOOL. A prison in which children do penance for the evil conscience of their parents.
A Book of Burlesques, "The Jazz Webster" (1924)

If men could blush at their own actions, how many sins, publick and private, would they save by it?
[Bullord ed. (1696)]

If Men knew how to blush at their own Actions, how many Crimes, publick and private, would they save by it!
[Curll ed. (1713)]

If Men could blush for themselves, how many Sins, public and private, would they save by it!
[Browne ed. (1752)]

If a man knew how to blush at his own actions, what crimes, not only secret but public and overt, would he not spare himself!
[tr. Stewart (1970)]

There can be but one essential justice, which cements society, and one law which establishes this justice. This law is right reason, which is the true rule of all commandments and prohibitions. Whoever neglects this law, whether written or unwritten, is necessarily unjust and wicked.
[tr. Barham (1842)]

For there is but one essential justice which cements society, and one law which establishes this justice. This law is right reason, which is the true rule of all commandments and prohibitions. Whoever neglects this law, whether written or unwritten, is necessarily unjust and wicked.
[tr. Barham/Yonge (1878)]

There is one, single, justice. It binds together human society and has been established by one, single, law. That law is right reason in commanding and forbidding. A man who does not acknowledge this law is unjust, whether it has been written down anywhere or not.
[tr. Rudd (1998)]

There is only one justice, which constitutes the bond among humans, and which was established by the one law, which is right reason in commands and prohibitions. The person who does not know it is unjust, whether the law has been written anywhere or not.
[tr. Zetzel (1999)]

Right is uniform; human fellowship has been bound by it, and one law has established it; that law is correct reason in commanding and prohibiting. He who is ignorant of it is unjust, whether it has been written somewhere or nowhere.
[tr. Fott (2013)]

And shame, a quality
Of so much weight, that both it helps and hurts excessively
Men in their manners, is not known, nor hath the pow’r to be,
In this man’s being.
[tr. Chapman (1611), l. 47ff]

Shame, man’s blessing or his curse.
[tr. Cowper (1791), l. 58]

Cowper footnotes: "His blessing, if he is properly influenced by it; his curse in its consequences if he is deaf to its dictates."

Nor in him is there sense of shame, which greatly hurts and profits men.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]

Conscience, arbiter of good and ill.
[tr. Derby (1864)]

Neither hath he shame, that doth both harm and profit men greatly.
[tr. Leaf/Lang/Myers (1891)]

That conscience which at once so greatly banes yet greatly boons him that will heed it.
[tr. Butler (1898)]

Neither is shame in his heart, the which harmeth men greatly and profiteth them withal.
[tr. Murray (1924)]

There is not in him any shame; which does much harm to men but profits them also.
[tr. Lattimore (1951)]

He has no shame -- that gift that hinders mortals but helps them, too.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]

No shame in the man,
shame that does great harm or drives men on to good.
[tr. Fagles (1990), l. 52ff]

Shame and respect no
longer he has, which harm men greatly but profit them also.
[tr. Merrill (2007)]

There is truely I wot not what kinde of congratulation, of well doing, which rejoyceth us in our selves, and a generous jollitie, that accompanieth a good conscience.
[tr. Florio (1603)]

There is a kind of I know not what congratulation in well-doing, that gives us an inward Satisfaction, and a certain generous Boldness that accompanies a good Conscience.
[tr. Cotton (1686)]

There is a kind of, I know not what, congratulation in well-doing that gives us an inward satisfaction, and a generous boldness that accompanies a good conscience.
[tr. Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]

There is surely I know not what self-gratification in doing well, which rejoices us ourselves, and a noble pride which attends a good conscience.
[tr. Ives (1925)]

There is an unutterable delight in acting well which makes us inwardly rejoice; a noble feeling of pride accompanies a good conscience.
[tr. Screech (1987)]

There are interior subsoilings. The penetration of a torturing certainty into man does not occur without breaking up and pulverising certain deep elements which are sometimes the man himself. Grief, when it reaches this stage, is a panic of all the forces of the soul. These are fatal crises. Few among us come through them without change, and firm in duty. When the limit of suffering is overpassed, the most imperturbable virtue is disconcerted.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]

There are such things as internal landslides; the penetration of a desperate certainty into a man is not effected without removing and breaking certain profound elements which are at times the man himself. Grief, when it attains that pitch, is a frantic flight of all the forces of the conscience, and such crises are fatal Few among us emerge from them equal to ourselves and firm in our duty, for when the limit of suffering is exceeded the most imperturbable virtue is disconcerted.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]

There is such a thing as the sudden giving way of the inward subsoil. A despairing certainty does not make its way into a man without thrusting aside and breaking certain profound elements which, in some cases, are the very man himself. Grief, when it attains this shape, is a headlong flight of all the forces of the conscience. These are fatal crises. Few among us emerge from them still like ourselves and firm in duty. When the limit of endurance is overstepped, the most imperturbable virtue is disconcerted.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]

There is such a thing as spiritual collapse. The thrust of a desperate certainty into a man cannot occur without the disruption of certain profound elements which are sometimes the man himself. Anguish, when it has reached this stage, becomes a panic-flight of all the powers of conscience. There are mortal crises from which few of us emerge in our right mind, with our sense of duty still intact. When the limit of suffering is overpassed the most impregnable virtue is plunged in disarray.
[tr. Denny (1976)]

There are interior collapses. The penetration of a torturing certainty within man does not occur without breaking up and pulverizing certain deep elements that are sometimes the man himself. Grief, when it reaches this level, is a panic of all the forces of consciousness. These are fatal crises. Few among us come through them unchanged and firm in duty. When the limit of suffering is topped, the most imperturbable virtue is disconcerted.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]

Then Yahweh himself went by. There came a mighty wind, so strong it tore the mountains and shattered the rocks before Yahweh. But Yahweh was not in the wind. After the wind came an earthquake. But Yahweh was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire. But Yahweh was not in the fire. And after the fire there came the sound of a gentle breeze.
[Jerusalem (1966)]

Then the Lord passed by and sent a furious wind that split the hills and shattered the rocks -- but the Lord was not in the wind. The wind stopped blowing, and then there was an earthquake -- but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was a fire -- but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the soft whisper of a voice.
[GNT (1976)]

Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind, and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake, and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire, and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.
[NRSV (1989)]

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.
[NIV (2011)]

It is good also that we suffer sometime contradiction, and that we be holden of others as evil, and wretched, and sinful, though we do well and intend well: for such things help us to meekness and mightily defend us from vain-glory and pride. We take God the better to be our judge and witness, when we be outwardly despised in the world, and the world judgeth not well of us.
[tr. Whitford/Raynal (1530/1871)]

It also is good that we sometimes suffer contradiction, and that we be thought of by others as evil and wretched and sinful, though we do well and intend well; such things help us to humility, and mightily defend us from vainglory and pride. We take God better to be our judge and witness when we are outwardly despised in the world and the world does not judge well of us.
[tr. Whitford/Gardiner (1530/1955)]

It is good for us sometimes to be crossed and contradicted, yea to be ill spoken of, and ill thought of, although we both doe and mean well. These wonderfully increase in us the vertue of humility, and strongly beat downe in us the vice of vain-glory. For then we more earnestly call God to witnesse in us and for us, when men abroad dis-esteeme us and give no credit unto us.
[tr. Page (1639), 1.3.3-5]

The Injuries and contumelious Usage, the Calumnies and Censures of them who speak and think ill of us, bring their Profit with them too; even when most wrongful, most undeserved. For these oftentimes are an occasion of rectifying our Measures, as bringing us to a juster and more modest Opinion of our selves: They cure our Ambition and Vain-glory, and convince us how vain a thing it is, to thrill after Reputation and the Praise of Men, when even Innocence and Goodness cannot protect us from Slander and Reproaches. They teach us to set a due Value upon the Testimony of our own Consciences, and the righteous Approbation of God, the Searcher of Hearts; when that which he will not fail to commend and reward, cannot escape the Contempt and Condemnation of the World, nor prevail for so much as fair Quarter, from our mistaken and injurious Brethren.
[tr. Stanhope (1696; 1706 ed.)]

It is good for him also to meet with contradiction and reproach; and to be evil thought of, and evil spoken of, even when his intentions are upright, and his actions blameless; for this keeps him humble, and is a powerful antidote to the poison of vain glory: then chiefly it is, that we have recourse to the witness within us, which is God; when we are outwardly despised, and held in no degree of esteem and favor among men.
[tr. Payne (1803)]

It is good that we be sometimes contradicted; and that there be an evil or a lessening conceit had of us; and this, although we do and intend well. These things help often to the attaining of humility, and defend us from vain glory: for then we chiefly seek God for our inward witness, when outwardly we be contemned by men, and when there is no credit given unto us.
[ed. Parker (1841)]

It is good for us also to meet with contradiction and reproach; and to be evil thought of, and evil spoken of; even when our intentions are upright, and our actions blameless; for this keeps us humble, and is a powerful antidote to the poison of vain glory. Then chiefly it is, that we have recourse to the witness within us, which is GOD; when we are outwardly despised, and held in no esteem and favor among men.
[tr. Dibdin (1851)]

It is good that we sometimes suffer contradictions, and that men have an evil or imperfect opinion of us, even when we do and intend well. These things are often helps to humility, and defend us from vain glory. For we then better seek God as our inward witness, when outwardly we are despised by men, and little credit is given to us.
[ed. Bagster (1860)]

It is good that we sometimes endure contradictions, and are hardly and unfairly judged, when we do and mean what is good. For these things help us to be humble, and shield us from vain-glory. For then we seek the more earnestly the witness of God, when men speak evil of us falsely, and give us no credit for good.
[tr. Benham (1874)]

It is good that we be sometimes contradicted, and this, although we do and intend well. These things help often to the attaining of humility, and defend us from vain glory: for then we are more inclined to seek God for our inward witness.
[tr. Anon. (1901)]

It is good for us sometimes to suffer contradiction, to be misjudged by men even though we do well and mean well. These things help us to be humble and shield us from vainglory. When to all outward appearances men give us no credit, when they do not think well of us, then we are more inclined to seek God Who sees our hearts.
[tr. Croft/Bolton (1940)]

It is good for us sometimes to endure contradictions, and to be thought of as bad or imperfect, even when we do and mean well. Such things often help towards meekness, and protect us from idle boasting. For then we look to God, the better inward witness, when we are disparaged from without by men, and no good is credited to us.
[tr. Daplyn (1952)]

It's good for you sometimes to hear men's voices raised against you, and to find that you are making a bad impression, or at least a false impression, on others, even when you are doing your best, and with the best intentions. It often makes for humility; prevents you from having too good an opinion of yourself. It's when we make a bad surface impression, and people are ready to think ill of us, that we learn to fall back upon God's judgements, because he witnesses all our actions from within.
[tr. Knox-Oakley (1959)]

It is a good thing that we are maligned now and again, and are misjudged and disliked even when we mean and do well. This sort of thing is often a great help in achieving humility, and it keeps us from groundless self-satisfaction; for we are more ready to listen for God’s assuring voice within, when those around believe the worst of us and treat us with contempt
[tr. Knott (1962)]

It is good too that we should be contradicted and ill-thought of, even when we act with the best intentions. Experiences like these help us towards humility and guard us against vainglory. When outwardly we are slandered and ill-thought of, then we will yearn more anxiously for God’s inward witness.
[tr. Rooney (1979)]

Sometimes it is good that we put up with people speaking against us, and sometimes it is good that we be thought of as bad and flawed, even when we do good things and have good intentions. Such troubles are often aids to humility, and they protect us from pride. Indeed, we are sometimes better seeking God when people have nothing but bad things to say about us and when they refuse to give us credit for the good things we have done!
[tr. Creasy (1989)]

Our Constitution separates church and state. We know that separation is a source of our system's strength, but the conscience of our nation does not call for separation between men of state and faith in the Supreme Being.

NORFOLK: I'm not a scholar, I don't know whether the marriage was lawful or not. But damn it, Thomas, look at these names! Why can't you do as I did, and come with us, for fellowship?
MORE: And when we die, and you are sent to heaven for doing your conscience, and I am sent to hell for not doing mine, will you come with me, for fellowship?

Not to be giltye or war wan at anye falte at all,
A bulwarke that, to beare all bruntes, be that the brasen wall.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

Be this a wall of Brass, to have within
No black accuser, harbour no pale sin.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]

Be this thy Guard, and this thy strong defence,
A vertuous Heart, and unstain'd Innocence;
Not to be conscious of a shameful sin:
Nor yet look pale for Scarlet Crimes within.
[tr. Creech (1684)]

True, conscious Honour is to feel no sin,
He ’s arm'd without that’s innocent within;
Be this thy Screen, and this thy Wall of Brass.
[tr. Pope (1737), ll. 93-95]

Be this thy brazen bulwark of defence,
Still to preserve thy conscious innocence,
Nor e'er turn pale with guilt.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

Be good, then, and be great;
This be your tower of strength, your throne of state;
To keep your heart unconscious of a sin,
And feel no goadings of remorse within!
[tr. Howes (1845)]

Let this be a [man’s] brazen wall, to be conscious of no ill, to turn pale with no guilt.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

Be this your wall of brass, your coat of mail,
A guileless heart, a cheek no crime turns pale.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

Let this be a wall of brass around you -- "Not to be conscious of crime, or of any fault which spreads paleness over the countenance."
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

Be this our wall of bronze, to have no guilt at heart, no wrongdoing to turn us pale.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

And this bronze wall should be ours: to let no shame
Steal across our faces, no guilt steal into our hearts.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

Make this your barrier of bronze,
that no crime burdens you, no guilt has turned you pale.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

Let a man stand
Behind this bronze wall:
Never guilty,
Never pale with sin, and fear
Of sin.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]

Let this be our defense: not to have any
Wrongdoing on our conscience to worry over.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

So let this be your wall of brass:
to have nothing on your conscience, nothing to give you a guilty pallor.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

Let that be your wall of bronze,
To be free of guilt, with no wrongs to cause you pallor.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

And let the counsel of thine own heart stand: for there is no man more faithful unto thee than it.  For a man's mind is sometime wont to tell him more than seven watchmen, that sit above in an high tower.
[KJV (1611)]

And establish within thyself a heart of good counsel: for there is no other thing of more worth to thee than it. The soul of a holy man discovereth sometimes true things, more than seven watchmen that sit in a high piece to watch.
[DRA (1899); 37:17-18]

And trust your own judgment; no one's advice is more reliable. Sometimes your own intuition can tell you more than seven watchmen on a high tower.
[GNT (1976)]

And heed the counsel of your own heart, for no one is more faithful to you than it is. For our own mind sometimes keeps us better informed than seven sentinels sitting high on a watchtower.
[NRSV (1989 ed.)]

Courage is of two kinds: first, physical courage, or courage in the presence of danger to the person; and next, moral courage, or courage before responsibility, whether it be before the judgment seat of external authority, or of the inner power, the conscience.
[tr. Graham (1873)]

Courage is of two kinds: first, courage in presence of danger to the person, and next, courage in the presence of responsibility, whether before the judgment seat of an external authority, or before that of the internal authority which is conscience.
[tr. Jolles (1943)]

CONSCIENCE. The inner voice which warns us that someone is looking.
[A Book of Burlesques, "The Jazz Webster" (1924)]

Conscience is the inner voice which warns us that someone may be looking.
[Chrestomathy, ch. 30 "Sententiae" (1949)]

For why is my liberty judged of another man's conscience?
[KJV (1611)]

Why should my freedom depend on somebody else’s conscience?
[JB (1966)]

“Well, then,” someone asks, “why should my freedom to act be limited by another person's conscience?"
[GNT (1976)]

Why should my freedom be judged by someone else’s conscience?
[CEB (2011)]

For why should my liberty be subject to the judgment of someone else’s conscience?
[NRSV (2021 ed.)]

It is my ambition and desire to so administer the affairs of the government while I remain President that if at the end I shall have lost every other friend on earth I shall at least have one friend remaining and that one shall be down inside of me.

• "We never do evil so fully and cheerfully as when we do it out of conscience." [#813 (#895), tr. Krailsheimer]
• "We never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when we do it out of conscience." [Miscellaneous Thoughts 7: Sellier #658/Lafuma #813, tr. Ariew]
• "Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it conscientiously."