ecting his employment; and when he has
overburdened himself with liquor, he is too feeble and too stupid to
follow it.

Poverty, my lords, is the offspring of idleness, as idleness of
drunkenness; the drunkard's work is little and his expenses are great;
and, therefore, he must soon see his family distressed, and his
substance reduced to nothing: and surely, my lords, it needs not much
sagacity to discover what will be the consequence of poverty produced
by vice.

It is not to be expected, my lords, that a man thus corrupted will be
warned by the approach of misery, that he will recollect his
understanding, and awaken his attention; that he will apply himself to
his business with new diligence, endeavour to recover, by an increase
of application, what he has lost by inattention, and make the
remembrance of his former vices, and the difficulties and diseases
which they brought upon him, an incitement to his industry, a
confirmation of his resolution, and a support to his virtue.

That this is, indeed, possible, I do not intend to deny; but the bare
possibility of an event so desirable, is the utmost that can be
admitted; for it can scarcely be expected, that any man should be able
to break through all the obstacles that will obstruct his return to
honesty and wisdom; his companions will endeavour to continue the
infatuating amusements which have so long deluded him; his appetite
will assist their solicitations; the desire of present ease by which
all mankind are sometimes led aside from virtue, will operate with
unusual strength; since, to retrieve his misconduct, he must not only
deny himself the pleasure which he has so long indulged, but must bear
the full view of his distress from which he will naturally turn aside
his eyes. The general difficulty of reformation will incline him to
seek for ease by any other means, and to delay that amendment which he
knows to be necessary, from hour to hour, and from day to day, till
his resolutions are too much weakened to prove of any effect, and his
habits confirmed beyond opposition.

At length, necessity, immediate necessity, presses upon him; his
family is made clamorous by want, and his calls of nature and of
luxury are equally importunate; he has now lost his credit in the
world, and none will employ him, because none will trust him, or
employment cannot immediately be, perhaps, obtained; because his place
has for a long time been supplied by others. And, even if he cou