es me--

I believe in my conscience I intercept many a thought which heaven
intended for another man.

Pope and his Portrait (Vid. Pope's Portrait.) are fools to me--no martyr
is ever so full of faith or fire--I wish I could say of good works
too--but I have no

Zeal or Anger--or
Anger or Zeal--

And till gods and men agree together to call it by the same name--the
errantest Tartuffe, in science--in politics--or in religion, shall
never kindle a spark within me, or have a worse word, or a more unkind
greeting, than what he will read in the next chapter.

Chapter 4.XXVII.

--Bon jour!--good morrow!--so you have got your cloak on betimes!--but
'tis a cold morning, and you judge the matter rightly--'tis better to
be well mounted, than go o' foot--and obstructions in the glands are
dangerous--And how goes it with thy concubine--thy wife,--and thy little
ones o' both sides? and when did you hear from the old gentleman and
lady--your sister, aunt, uncle, and cousins--I hope they have got
better of their colds, coughs, claps, tooth-aches, fevers, stranguries,
sciaticas, swellings, and sore eyes.

--What a devil of an apothecary! to take so much blood--give such a vile
purge--puke--poultice--plaister--night-draught--clyster--blister?--And
why so many grains of calomel? santa Maria! and such a dose of opium!
peri-clitating, pardi! the whole family of ye, from head to tail--By my
great-aunt Dinah's old black velvet mask! I think there is no occasion
for it.

Now this being a little bald about the chin, by frequently putting off
and on, before she was got with child by the coachman--not one of our
family would wear it after. To cover the Mask afresh, was more than the
mask was worth--and to wear a mask which was bald, or which could be
half seen through, was as bad as having no mask at all--

This is the reason, may it please your reverences, that in all our
numerous family, for these four generations, we count no more than one
archbishop, a Welch judge, some three or four aldermen, and a single
mountebank--

In the sixteenth century, we boast of no less than a dozen alchymists.

Chapter 4.XXVIII.

'It is with Love as with Cuckoldom'--the suffering party is at least the
third, but generally the last in the house who knows any thing about
the matter: this comes, as all the world knows, from having half a dozen
words for one thing; and so long, as what in this vessel of the
human frame, is Love--may be H