ndrias. He laments, like
Heraclitus, the maudlin philosopher, at other men's mirth, and takes
pleasure in nothing but his own unsober sadness. His mind is full of
thoughts, but they are all empty, like a nest of boxes. He sleeps
little, but dreams much, and soundest when he is waking. He sees visions
farther off than a second-sighted man in Scotland, and dreams upon a
hard point with admirable judgment. He is just so much worse than a
madman as he is below him in degree of frenzy, for among madmen the most
mad govern all the rest, and receive a natural obedience from their
inferiors.

A TRAVELLER

Is a native of all countries and an alien at home. He flies from the
place where he was hatched, like a wild goose, and prefers all others
before it. He has no quarrel to it but because he was born in it, and,
like a bastard, he is ashamed of his mother, because she is of him. He
is a merchant that makes voyages into foreign nations to drive a trade
in wisdom and politics, and it is not for his credit to have it thought
he has made an ill return, which must be if he should allow of any of
the growth of his own country. This makes him quack and blow up himself
with admiration of foreign parts and a generous contempt of home, that
all men may admire at least the means he has had of improvement and
deplore their own defects. His observations are like a sieve, that lets
the finer flour pass and retains only the bran of things, for his whole
return of wisdom proves to be but affectation, a perishable commodity,
which he will never be able to put off. He believes all men's wits are
at a stand that stay at home, and only those advanced that travel, as if
change of pasture did make great politicians as well as fat calves. He
pities the little knowledge of truth which those have that have not seen
the world abroad, forgetting that at the same time he tells us how
little credit is to be given to his own relations and those of others
that speak and write of their travels. He has worn his own language to
rags, and patched it up with scraps and ends of foreign. This serves him
for wit; for when he meets with any of his foreign acquaintances, all
they smatter passes for wit, and they applaud one another accordingly.
He believes this raggedness of his discourse a great demonstration of
the improvement of his knowledge, as Inns-of-Court men intimate their
proficiency in the law by the tatters of their gowns. All the wit he
brought home