never seemed to charge his memory, or to trouble his thoughts, with
the sense of any of the services that had been done him. While he
was abroad at _Paris_, _Colen_, or _Brussells_, he never seemed to
lay any thing to heart. He pursued all his diversions, and irregular
pleasures, in a free carrier; and seemed to be as serene under the
loss of a Crown, as the greatest Philosopher could have been. Nor did
he willingly hearken to any of those projects, with which he often
complained that his Chancellor persecuted him. That in which he seemed
most concerned was, to find money for supporting his expence. And it
was often said, that, if _Cromwell_ would have compounded the matter,
and have given him a good round pension, that he might have been
induced to resign his title to him. During his exile he delivered
himself so entirely to his pleasures, that he became incapable of
application. He spent little of his time in reading or study, and
yet less in thinking. And, in the state his affairs were then in, he
accustomed himself to say to every person, and upon all occasions,
that which he thought would please most: So that words or promises
went very easily from him. And he had so ill an opinion of mankind,
that he thought the great art of living and governing was, to manage
all things and all persons with a depth of craft and dissimulation.
And in that few men in the world could put on the appearances of
sincerity better than he could: Under which so much artifice was
usually hid, that in conclusion he could deceive none, for all were
become mistrustful of him. He had great vices, but scarce any vertues
to correct them: He had in him some vices that were less hurtful,
which corrected his more hurtful ones. He was during the active part
of life given up to sloth and lewdness to such a degree, that he hated
business, and could not bear the engaging in any thing that gave him
much trouble, or put him under any constraint. And, tho' he desired to
become absolute, and to overturn both our religion and our laws, yet
he would neither run the risque, nor give himself the trouble, which
so great a design required. He had an appearance of gentleness in his
outward deportment: But he seemed to have no bowels nor tenderness in
his nature: And in the end of his life he became cruel. He was apt to
forgive all crimes, even blood it self: Yet he never forgave any thing
that was done against himself, after his first and general act of
indemnity,