ence, and now in his sight, crowding nearer to the chair
of state, desires to be looked on, desires to be spoken to by the
greatest, and studies how to offer an occasion, lest he should seem
unknown, unregarded; and if any gesture of the least grace fall happily
upon him, he looks back upon his friend, lest he should carelessly let
it pass, without a note; and what he wanteth in sense he supplies in
history. His disposition is never but shamefully unthankful, for unless
he have all he hath nothing. It must be a large draught, whereof he will
not say that those few drops do not slake but inflame him. So still he
thinks himself the worse for small favours. His wit so contrives the
likely plots of his promotion, as if he would steal it away without
God's knowledge, besides His will. Neither doth he ever look up, and
consult in his forecasts with the supreme Moderator of all things, as
one that thinks honour is ruled by fortune, and that heaven meddleth not
with the disposing of these earthly lots; and therefore it is just with
that wise God to defeat his fairest hopes, and to bring him to a loss in
the hottest of his chase, and to cause honour to fly away so much the
faster, by how much it is more eagerly pursued. Finally, he is an
importunate suitor, a corrupt client, a violent undertaker, a smooth
factor, but untrusty, a restless master of his own, a bladder puffed up
with the wind of hope and self-love. He is in the common body as a mole
in the earth, ever unquietly casting; and, in one word, is nothing but a
confused heap of envy, pride, covetousness.

OF THE UNTHRIFT.

He ranges beyond his pale, and lives without compass. His expense is
measured, not by ability, but will. His pleasures are immoderate, and
not honest. A wanton eye, a liquorish tongue, a gamesome hand, have
impoverished him. The vulgar sort call him bountiful, and applaud him
when he spends; and recompense him with wishes when he gives, with pity
when he wants. Neither can it be denied that he raught true liberality,
but overwent it. No man could have lived more laudably, if, when he was
at the best, he had stayed there. While he is present, none of the
wealthier guests may pay aught to the shot without much vehemence,
without danger of unkindness. Use hath made it unpleasant to him not to
spend. He is in all things more ambitious of the title of good
fellowship than of wisdom. When he looks into the wealthy chest of his
father, his conceit suggest