It’s two versions to the story
In mine a bone poke through chipped bars
The witch sighed, “You not growin’ very large”
“You say that it is time to shake off the Mist, but Mankind walks in a Mist; that Reason which you cry up as the Glory of this Age is a Proteus and Cameleon that changes its Shape almost in every Man: there is no Folly that may not have a thousand Reasons produc’d to advance it into the Class of Wisdom. Reason itself is a Mist.”
Peter Ackroyd | Hawksmoor