inks business, but
never does any; he is all contemplation, no action. He hews and fashions
his thoughts, as if he meant them to some purpose, but they prove
unprofitable, as a piece of wrought timber to no use. His spirits and
the sun are enemies: the sun bright and warm, his humour black and cold;
variety of foolish apparitions people his head, they suffer him not to
breathe according to the necessities of nature, which makes him sup up a
draught of as much air at once as would serve at thrice. He denies
nature her due in sleep, and nothing pleaseth him long, but that which
pleaseth his own fantasies; they are the consuming evils, and evil
consumptions that consume him alive. Lastly, he is a man only in show;
but comes short of the better part, a whole reasonable soul, which is
man's chief pre-eminence and sole mark from creatures sensible.

A SAILOR

Is a pitched piece of reason caulked and tackled, and only studied to
dispute with tempests. He is part of his own provision, for he lives
ever pickled. A fore-wind is the substance of his creed, and fresh water
the burden of his prayers. He is naturally ambitious, for he is ever
climbing; out of which as naturally he fears, for he is ever flying.
Time and he are everywhere ever contending who shall arrive first; he is
well-winded, for he tires the day, and outruns darkness. His life is
like a hawk's, the best part mewed; and if he live till three coats, is
a master. He sees God's wonders in the deep, but so as rather they
appear his playfellows than stirrers of his zeal. Nothing but hunger and
hard rocks can convert him, and then but his upper deck neither; for his
hold neither fears nor hopes, his sleeps are but reprievals of his
dangers, and when he wakes 'tis but next stage to dying. His wisdom is
the coldest part about him, for it ever points to the north, and it lies
lowest, which makes his valour every tide overflow it. In a storm it is
disputable whether the noise be more his or the elements, and which will
first leave scolding; on which side of the ship he may be saved best,
whether his faith be starboard faith or larboard, or the helm at that
time not all his hope of heaven. His keel is the emblem of his
conscience, till it be split he never repents, then no farther than the
land allows him, and his language is a new confusion, and all his
thoughts new nations. His body and his ship are both one burden, nor is
it known who stows most wine or rolls most; on