yet this envy, like Phalaris' bull, makes that a torment first for
himself he prepared for others. He is a day-bed for the devil to slumber
on. His blood is of a yellowish colour, like those that have been bitten
by vipers, and his gall flows as thick in him as oil in a poisoned
stomach. He infects all society, as thunder sours wine: war or peace,
dearth or plenty, makes him equally discontented. And where he finds no
cause to tax the State, he descends to rail against the rate of
salt-butter. His wishes are whirlwinds, which breathed forth return into
himself, and make him a most giddy and tottering vessel. When he is
awake, and goes abroad, he doth but walk in his sleep, for his
visitation is directed to none, his business is nothing. He is often
dumb-mad, and goes fettered in his own entrails. Religion is commonly
his pretence of discontent, though he can be of all religions, therefore
truly of none. Thus by naturalising himself some would think him a very
dangerous fellow to the State; but he is not greatly to be feared, for
this dejection of his is only like a rogue that goes on his knees and
elbows in the mire to further his cogging.



A MERE FELLOW OF AN HOUSE

Examines all men's carriage but his own, and is so kind-natured to
himself, he finds fault with all men's but his own. He wears his apparel
much after the fashion; his means will not suffer him to come too nigh.
They afford him mock-velvet or satinisco, but not without the college's
next lease's acquaintance. His inside is of the self-same fashion, not
rich; but as it reflects from the glass of self-liking, there Croesus is
Irus to him. He is a pedant in show, though his title be tutor, and his
pupils in a broader phrase are schoolboys. On these he spends the false