nging
disease of reason, an aspiring and gallant madness. The ambitious climbs
up high and perilous stairs, and never cares how to come down; the
desire of rising hath swallowed up his fear of a fall. Having once
cleaved like a burr to some great man's coat, he resolves not to be
shaken off with any small indignities, and, finding his hold thoroughly
fast, casts how to insinuate yet nearer. And therefore he is busy and
servile in his endeavours to please, and all his officious respects turn
home to himself. He can be at once a slave to command, an intelligencer
to inform, a parasite to soothe and flatter, a champion to defend, an
executioner to revenge anything for an advantage of favour. He hath
projected a plot to rise, and woe be to the friend that stands in his
way. He still haunteth the court, and his unquiet spirit haunteth him,
which, having fetched him from the secure peace of his country rest,
sets him new and impossible tasks, and, after many disappointments,
encourages him to try the same sea in spite of his shipwrecks, and
promise better success. A small hope gives him heart against great
difficulties, and draws on new expense, new servility, persuading him
like foolish boys to shoot away a second shaft, that he may find the
first. He yieldeth, and now secure of the issue, applauds himself in
that honour, which he still affecteth, still misseth; and, for the last
of all trials, will rather bribe for a troublesome preferment than
return void of a title. But now, when he finds himself desperately
crossed, and at once spoiled both of advancement and hope, both of
fruition and possibility, all his desire is turned into rage, his thirst
is now only of revenge, his tongue sounds of nothing but detraction and
slander. Now the place he fought for is base, his rival unworthy, his
adversary injurious, officers corrupt, court infectious; and how well is
he that may be his own man, his own master, that may live safely in a
mean distance, at pleasure, free from starving, free from burning? But
if his designs speed well, ere he be warm in that feat, his mind is
possessed of an higher. What he hath is but a degree to what he would
have. Now he scorneth what he formerly aspired to. His success doth not
give him so much contentment as provocation; neither can he be at rest
so long as he hath one, either to overlook, or to match, or to emulate
him. When his country friend comes to visit him, he carries him up to
the awful pres