The body is more drest then the soule.
The slothful is the servant of the counters.
The dainties of the great are the teares of the poore.
Little journeys and good cost bring safe home.
One stroke fells not an oke.
'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.'