A Master Of Straw Eates A Servant

Summe Up At Night What Thou Hast Done By Day; And In The Morning What Thou Hast To Do. Dresse And Undresse Thy Soul; Mark The Decay And Growth Of It; If, With Thy Watch, That Too Be Down Then Winde Up Both; Since We Shall Be Most Surely Judg'd, Make Thy Accounts Agree.

'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.'

Bees Work For Man, And Yet They Never Bruise Their Master's Flower, But Leave It Having Done, As Fair As Ever And As Fit To Use; So Both The Flower Doth Stay And Honey Run.

Great Almes-giving Lessens No Mans Living.

Serve A Noble Disposition, Though Poore, The Time Comes That Hee Will Repay Thee.