Also there was a disciple of Plató, That on a timë said his master to, As his book, Senior, will bear witnéss, And this was his demand in soothfastness: “Tell me the name of thilkë privy stone.” And Plato answer’d unto him anon; “Takë the stone that Titanos men name.” “Which is that?” quoth he. “Magnesia is the same,” Saidë Plató. “Yea, Sir, and is it thus? This is ignotum per ignotius . What is Magnesia, good Sir, I pray?” “It is a water that is made, I say, Of th’ elementës fourë,” quoth Plató. “Tell me the rootë, good Sir,” quoth he tho, “Of that watér, if that it be your will.” “Nay, nay,” quoth Plato, “certain that I n’ill. The philosóphers sworn were every one, That they should not discover it to none, Nor in no book it write in no mannére; For unto God it is so lefe and dear, That he will not that it discover’d be, But where it liketh to his deity Man for to inspire, and eke for to defend Whom that he liketh; lo, this is the end.”
Then thus conclude I, since that God of heaven Will not that thesë philosóphers neven How that a man shall come unto this stone, I rede as for the best to let it gon. For whoso maketh God his adversáry, As for to work any thing in contráry Of his will, certes never shall he thrive, Though that he multiply term of his live. And there a point; for ended is my tale. God send ev’ry good man boot of his bale.