He Who Would Search For

Love Reckons Hours For Months, And Days For Years; And Every Little Absence Is An Age.

When Beauty Fires The Blood, How Love Exalts The Mind!

An Hour Will Come, With Pleasure To Relate Your Sorrows Past, As Benefits Of Fate.

We Must Beat The Iron While It Is Hot, But We May Polish It At Leisure.

Is It Not Evident, In These Last Hundred Years (when The Study Of Philosophy Has Been The Business Of All The Virtuosi In Christendome) That Almost A New Nature Has Been Revealed To Us? That More Errours Of The School Have Been Detected, More Useful Experiments In Philosophy Have Been Made, More Noble Secrets In Opticks, Medicine, Anatomy, Astronomy, Discover'd, Than In All Those Credulous And Doting Ages From Aristotle To Us? So True It Is That Nothing Spreads More Fast Than Science, When Rightly And Generally Cultivated.