A snow year, a rich year.
Though punishment be slow, still it comes.
Good workmen are seldom rich.
Health without money is halfe an ague.
Science stands, a too competant servant, behind her wrangling underbred masters, holding out resources, devices, and remedies they are too stupid to use. ... And on its material side, a modern Utopia must needs present these gifts as taken.
Nothing lasts but the Church.