Believe Not Much Them That

Medicine Is A Science Which Hath Been (as We Have Said) More Professed Than Laboured, And Yet More Laboured Than Advanced: The Labour Having Been, In My Judgment, Rather In Circle Than In Progression. For I Find Much Iteration, But Small Addition. It Considereth Causes Of Diseases, With The Occasions Or Impulsions; The Diseases Themselves, With The Accidents; And The Cures, With The Preservation.

Our Humanity Is A Poor Thing, Except For The Divinity That Stirs Within Us.

Believe Not Much Them That Seem To Despise Riches, For They Despise Them That Despair Of Them.

Children Sweeten Labours, But They Make Misfortunes More Bitter.

To Conclude, Therefore, Let No Man Upon A Weak Conceit Of Sobriety Or An Ill-applied Moderation Think Or Maintain That A Man Can Search Too Far, Or Be Too Well Studied In The Book Of God's Word, Or The Book Of God's Works, Divinity Or Philosophy; But Rather Let Men Endeavor An Endless Progress Or Proficience In Both; Only Let Men Beware That They Apply Both To Charity, And Not To Swelling; To Use, And Not To Ostentation; And Again, That They Do Not Unwisely Mingle Or Confound These Learnings Together.