ll." After the word "reserved" in Bliss, the MS. goes on: "He
will part with anything in a humour, but in a good cause with nothing, and
you may better entice him than persuade him. He is often perverse, never
resolute and inexorable to nothing so much as reason. He loves wits and
scholars to his cost, for he never has their company but invited. His
friendships commonly are begun in a supper and lost in lending money. The
way to gain his regard is to neglect him, for if he once be in good
estimation, he grows proud upon it and contemns you." After the words
"laid to his charge." "He puts in his verdict at all discourses, and
whatsoever reason you urge, he holds his conclusion." Again, after the
words "breaks forth with all." "His fear is his most violent persuader,
which makes him do more upon the authority of one he hates, than the suit
of his friend. He is one not to live in this world, for each man is his
ambush, and his friend to abuse him. He has been long in contempt, and at
last out of money, and then men cry 'alas!' and forget him."
A SCEPTICK IN RELIGION.
P. 99. This Character also is so varied from the printed copies in the
Bright MS. that it is given from the latter entire. "He is defined by a
genus without a difference; for he is a Christian at large, and no more.
He uses the land's religion because it is next him; yet he sees not why he
may not take the other yet he chooses this not as better, but because
there is not a pin to choose. He is wondrous loth to hazard his credulity,
and whilst he fears to believe amiss, believes nothing. The opinion of an
over judgment wrongs him, which makes him too wise for the truth. He
finds doubts and scruples better than resolves them, and has always some
argument to nonplus himself. The least religion is enough to perplex him,
and the best will not satisfy him. He hammers too much in general upon our
opinion's incertainty, and the possibility of erring makes him not venture
on what is true. He cannot drive into his fancy the circumscription of
religion into our corner, and yet, the absurdity of Popery staggers him
again. He could like the Protestant better were it not for the puritan,
and the papist but for the Jesuit. He thinks we are more rational, and
likes the life of the other. He thinks so many wise men would not believe
but on good ground, and so many honest men cannot be on the wrong side;
yet he sees not their reason notwithstanding, nor assents to their hone
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