ersally bestowed. The ruin of
another will produce no profit to him who has not discernment to mark
his advantage, courage to seize, and activity to pursue it; but the cold
malignity of envy may be exerted in a torpid and quiescent state, amidst
the gloom of stupidity, in the coverts of cowardice. He that falls by
the attacks of interest, is torn by hungry tigers; he may discover and
resist his enemies. He that perishes in the ambushes of envy, is
destroyed by unknown and invisible assailants, and dies like a man
suffocated by a poisonous vapour, without knowledge of his danger, or
possibility of contest.

Interest is seldom pursued but at some hazard. He that hopes to gain
much, has commonly something to lose, and when he ventures to attack
superiority, if he fails to conquer, is irrecoverably crushed. But envy
may act without expense or danger. To spread suspicion, to invent
calumnies, to propagate scandal, requires neither labour nor courage. It
is easy for the author of a lie, however malignant, to escape detection,
and infamy needs very little industry to assist its circulation.

Envy is almost the only vice which is practicable at all times, and in
every place; the only passion which can never lie quiet for want of
irritation: its effects therefore are every where discoverable, and its
attempts always to be dreaded.

It is impossible to mention a name which any advantageous distinction
has made eminent, but some latent animosity will burst out. The wealthy
trader, however he may abstract himself from publick affairs, will never
want those who hint, with Shylock, that ships are but boards. The
beauty, adorned only with the unambitious graces of innocence and
modesty, provokes, whenever she appears, a thousand murmurs of
detraction. The genius, even when he endeavours only to entertain or
instruct, yet suffers persecution from innumerable criticks, whose
acrimony is excited merely by the pain of seeing others pleased, and of
hearing applauses which another enjoys.

The frequency of envy makes it so familiar, that it escapes our notice;
nor do we often reflect upon its turpitude or malignity, till we happen
to feel its influence. When he that has given no provocation to malice,
but by attempting to excel, finds himself pursued by multitudes whom he
never saw, with all the implacability of personal resentment; when he
perceives clamour and malice let loose upon him as a publick enemy, and
incited by every stratage