him not, but he expects it calmly as
his turn in nature; and fears more his recoiling back to childishness than
dust. All men look on him as a common father, and on old age, for his
sake, as a reverent thing. His very presence and face puts vice out of
countenance, and makes it an indecorum in a vicious man. He practises his
experience on youth without the harshness of reproof, and in his counsel
his good company. He has some old stories still of his own seeing to
confirm what he says, and makes them better in the telling; yet is not
troublesome neither with the same tale again, but remembers with them how
oft he has told them. His old sayings and morals seem proper to his beard;
and the poetry of Cato does well out of his mouth, and he speaks it as if
he were the author. He is not apt to put the boy on a younger man, nor the
fool on a boy, but can distinguish gravity from a sour look; and the less
testy he is, the more regarded. You must pardon him if he like his own
times better than these, because those things are follies to him now that
were wisdom then; yet he makes us of that opinion too when we see him, and
conjecture those times by so good a relick. He is a man capable of a
dearness with the youngest men, yet he not youthfuller for them, but they
older for him; and no man credits more his acquaintance. He goes away at
last too soon whensoever, with all men's sorrow but his own; and his
memory is fresh, when it is twice as old.

LXVI.

A FLATTERER

Is the picture of a friend, and as pictures flatter many times, so he oft
shews fairer than the true substance: his look, conversation, company, and
all the outwardness of friendship more pleasing by odds, for a true friend
dare take the liberty to be sometimes offensive, whereas he is a great
deal more cowardly, and will not let the least hold go, for fear of losing
you. Your meer sour look affrights him, and makes him doubt his
casheering. And this is one sure mark of him, that he is never first
angry, but ready though upon his own wrong to make satisfaction. Therefore
he is never yoked with a poor man, or any that stands on the lower
ground, but whose fortunes may tempt his pains to deceive him. Him he
learns first, and learns well, and grows perfecter in his humours than
himself, and by this door enters upon his soul, of which he is able at
last to take the very print and mark, and fashion his own by it, like a
false key to open all your secrets. All his