The Bee Enclosed And Through

I Would By All Means Have Men Beware, Lest Æsop's Pretty Fable Of The Fly That Sate [sic] On The Pole Of A Chariot At The Olympic Races And Said, 'what A Dust Do I Raise,' Be Verified In Them. For So It Is That Some Small Observation, And That Disturbed Sometimes By The Instrument, Sometimes By The Eye, Sometimes By The Calculation, And Which May Be Owing To Some Real Change In The Heaven, Raises New Heavens And New Spheres And Circles.

Anger Is Certainly A Kind Of Baseness; As It Appears Well In The Weakness Of Those Subjects In Whom It Reigns; Children, Women, Old Folks, Sick Folks. Only Men Must Beware, That They Carry Their Anger Rather With Scorn, Than With Fear; So That They May Seem Rather To Be Above The Injury, Than Below It; Which Is A Thing Easily Done, If A Man Will Give Law To Himself In It.

Revenge Is A Kind Of Wild Justice, Which The More A Man's Nature Runs To, The More Ought Law To Weed It Out.

But The Idols Of The Market Place Are The Most Troublesome Of All: Idols Which Have Crept Into The Understanding Through Their Alliances With Words And Names. For Men Believe That Their Reason Governs Words. But Words Turn And Twist The Understanding. This It Is That Has Rendered Philosophy And The Sciences Inactive. Words Are Mostly Cut To The Common Fashion And Draw The Distinctions Which Are Most Obvious To The Common Understanding. Whenever An Understanding Of Greater Acuteness Or More Diligent Observation Would Alter Those Lines To Suit The True Distinctions Of Nature, Words Complain.

It Is A Great Happiness When Men's Professions And Their Inclinations Accord.