Vertue now is in herbs and stones and words onely.
Assaile who will, the valiant attends.
Many kiss the hand they wish cut off.
Power seldome grows old at Court.
'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.'
Had you the world on your Chesse-bord, you could not fill all to your mind.