unthankfulness; if little, that he is basely regarded; if much, he
exclaims of flattery, and expectation of a large requital. Every
blessing hath somewhat to disparage and distaste it; children bring
cares, single life is wild and solitary, eminency is envious,
retiredness obscure, fasting painful, satiety unwieldy, religion nicely
severe, liberty is lawless, wealth burdensome, mediocrity contemptible.
Everything faulteth, either in too much or too little. This man is ever
headstrong and self-willed, neither is he always tied to esteem or
pronounce according to reason; some things he must dislike he knows not
wherefore, but he likes them not; and otherwhere, rather than not
censure, he will accuse a man of virtue. Everything he meddleth with he
either findeth imperfect or maketh so; neither is there anything that
soundeth so harsh in his ear as the commendation of another; whereto yet
perhaps he fashionably and coldly assenteth, but with such an
after-clause of exception as doth more than mar his former allowance;
and if he list not to give a verbal disgrace, yet he shakes his head and
smiles, as if his silence should say, I could and will not. And when
himself is praised without excess, he complains that such imperfect
kindness hath not done him right. If but an unseasonable shower cross
his recreation, he is ready to fall out with heaven, and thinks he is
wronged if God will not take his times when to rain, when to shine. He
is a slave to envy, and loseth flesh with fretting--not so much at his
own infelicity as at others' good; neither hath he leisure to joy in his
own blessings whilst another prospereth. Fain would he see some
mutinies, but dares not raise them; and suffers his lawless tongue to
walk through the dangerous paths of conceited alterations; but so, as in
good manners he had rather thrust every man before him when it comes to
acting. Nothing but fear keeps him from conspiracies, and no man is more
cruel when he is not manacled with danger. He speaks nothing but satires
and libels, and lodgeth no guests in his heart but rebels. The
inconstant and he agree well in their felicity, which both place in
change; but herein they differ--the inconstant man affects that which
will be, the malcontent commonly that which was. Finally, he is a
querulous cur, whom no horse can pass by without barking at; yea, in the
deep silence of night the very moonshine openeth his clamorous mouth. He
is the wheel of a well-couched