Goods Are Theirs That Enjoy Them.

The Bit That One Eates, No Friend Makes.

The Lame Goes As Farre As Your Staggerer. [the Lame Goes As Far As Your Staggerer.]

Listen, Sweet Dove, Unto My Song, And Spread Thy Golden Wings In Me; Hatching My Tender Heart So Long, Till It Get Wing, And Flie Away With Thee.

'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.'

Avoid,profaneness; Come Not Here: Nothing But Holy, Pure, And Clear, Or That Which Groaneth To Be So, May At His Peril Further Go.