d, covin, and further delay, is void and of none effect, otherwise
does stand and remain in full power, force, and virtue. He trusts the
credulous with what hopes they please at a very easy rate, upon their
own security, until he has drawn them far enough in, and then makes them
pay for all at once. The first thing he gets from him is a good opinion,
and afterwards anything he pleases; for after he has drawn from his
guards he deals with him like a surgeon, and ties his arm before he lets
him blood.

A TEDIOUS MAN

Talks to no end, as well as to no purpose; for he would never come at it
willingly. His discourse is like the road-miles in the north, the
filthier and dirtier the longer; and he delights to dwell the longer
upon them to make good the old proverb that says they are good for the
dweller, but ill for the traveller. He sets a tale upon the rack, and
stretches until it becomes lame and out of joint. Hippocrates says art
is long; but he is so for want of art. He has a vein of dulness, that
runs through all he says or does; for nothing can be tedious that is not
dull and insipid. Digressions and repetitions, like bag and baggage,
retard his march and put him to perpetual halts. He makes his approaches
to a business by oblique lines, as if he meant to besiege it, and
fetches a wide compass about to keep others from discovering what his
design is. He is like one that travels in a dirty deep road, that moves
slowly; and, when he is at a stop, goes back again, and loses more time
in picking of his way than in going it. How troublesome and uneasy
soever he is to others, he pleases himself so well that he does not at
all perceive it; for though home be homely, it is more delightful than
finer things abroad; and he that is used to a thing and knows no better
believes that other men, to whom it appears otherwise, have the same
sense of it that he has; as melancholy persons that fancy themselves to
be glass believe that all others think them so too; and therefore that
which is tedious to others is not so to him, otherwise he would avoid
it; for it does not so often proceed from a natural defect as
affectation and desire to give others that pleasure which they find
themselves, though it always falls out quite contrary. He that converses
with him is like one that travels with a companion that rides a lame
jade; he must either endure to go his pace or stay for him; for though
he understands long before what he would be at