'It's this accursed Science,' I cried. 'It's the very Devil. The mediaeval priests and persecutors were right, and the Moderns are all wrong. You tamper with it-and it offers you gifts. And directly you take them it knocks you to pieces in some unexpected way.'

He that sings on friday, will weepe on Sunday.

When my house burnes, it's not good playing at Chesse.

The thought hath good leggs, and the quill a good tongue.

One graine fills not a sacke, but helpes his fellowes.

All things require skill but an appetite.

Lend only what you can afford to lose.