laid upon his hands, and he was forced to put it off, and
makes great use of honesty to profess upon. He tells you lies by rote,
and not minding, as the phrase to sell in, and the language he spent most
of his years to learn. He never speaks so truely as when he says he would
use you as his brother; for he would abuse his brother, and in his shop
thinks it lawful. His religion is much in the nature of his customers, and
indeed the pander to it: and by a mis-interpreted sense of scripture makes
a gain of his godliness. He is your slave while you pay him ready money,
but if he once befriend you, your tyrant, and you had better deserve his
hate than his trust.

XLIX.

A BLUNT MAN

Is one whose wit is better pointed than his behaviour, and that coarse and
impolished, not out of ignorance so much as humour. He is a great enemy to
the fine gentleman, and these things of complement, and hates ceremony in
conversation, as the Puritan in religion. He distinguishes not betwixt
fair and double dealing, and suspects all smoothness for the dress of
knavery. He starts at the encounter of a salutation as an assault, and
beseeches you in choler to forbear your courtesy. He loves not any thing
in discourse that comes before the purpose, and is always suspicious of a
preface. Himself falls rudely still on his matter without any
circumstance, except he use an old proverb for an introduction. He swears
old out-of-date innocent oaths, as, by the mass! by our lady! and such
like, and though there be lords present, he cries, my masters! He is
exceedingly in love with his humour, which makes him always profess and
proclaim it, and you must take what he says patiently, because he is a
plain man. His nature is his excuse still, and other men's tyrant; for he
must speak his mind, and that is his worst, and craves your pardon most
injuriously for not pardoning you. His jests best become him, because
they come from him rudely and unaffected; and he has the luck commonly to
have them famous. He is one that will do more than he will speak, and yet
speak more than he will hear; for though he love to touch others, he is
touchy himself, and seldom to his own abuses replies but with his fists.
He is as squeazy[74] of his commendations, as his courtesy, and his good
word is like an eulogy in a satire. He is generally better favoured than
he favours, as being commonly well expounded in his bitterness, and no man
speaks treason more securely. He