with as his own. This he puts together so untowardly, that you may
perceive his own wit has the rickets by the swelling disproportion of
the joints. Imitation is the whole sum of him, and his vein is but an
itch that he has catched of others, and his flame like that of charcoals
that were burnt before. But as he wants judgment to understand what is
best, he naturally takes the worst, as being most agreeable to his own
talent. You may know his wit not to be natural, 'tis so unquiet and
troublesome in him; for as those that have money but seldom are always
shaking their pockets when they have it, so does he when he thinks he
has got something that will make him appear. He is a perpetual talker,
and you may know by the freedom of his discourse that he came lightly by
it, as thieves spend freely what they get. He measures other men's wit
by their modesty, and his own by his confidence. He makes nothing of
writing plays, because he has not wit enough to understand the
difficulty. This makes him venture to talk and scribble, as chouses do
to play with cunning gamesters until they are cheated and laughed at. He
is always talking of wit, as those that have bad voices are always
singing out of tune, and those that cannot play delight to fumble on
instruments. He grows the unwiser by other men's harms, for the worse
others write, he finds the more encouragement to do so too. His
greediness of praise is so eager that he swallows anything that comes in
the likeness of it, how notorious and palpable soever, and is as
shot-free against anything that may lessen his good opinion of himself.
This renders him incurable, like diseases that grow insensible.

If you dislike him, it is at your own peril; he is sure to put in a
caveat beforehand against your understanding, and, like a malefactor in
wit, is always furnished with exceptions against his judges. This puts
him upon perpetual apologies, excuses, and defences, but still by way of
defiance, in a kind of whiffling strain, without regard of any man that
stands in the way of his pageant. Where he thinks he may do it safely,
he will confidently own other men's writings; and where he fears the
truth may be discovered, he will, by feeble denials and feigned
insinuations, give men occasion to suppose it.

If he understands Latin or Greek he ranks himself among the learned,
despises the ignorant, talks criticisms out of Scaliger, and repeats
Martial's bawdy epigrams, and sets up his rest wh