Hee That Hath A Wife

'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.'

When A Friend Askes, There Is No To Morrow. [when A Friend Asks, There Is No To-morrow.]

Hee That Strikes With His Tongue, Must Ward With His Head.

Throw Away Thy Rod, Throw Away Thy Wrath; O My God, Take The Gentle Path.

The Apothecaries Morter Spoiles The Luters Musick.