'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.'

Mention not a halter in the house of him that was hanged.

Weening is not measure.

Slander is a shipwrack by a dry Tempest.

He that takes not up a pin, slights his wife.

Wine-Counsels seldome prosper.

An examin'd enterprize goes on boldly.