olly have so refined; that they seldom subsist but in
idea; a true friend, a good marriage, a perfect form of government,
with some others, require so many ingredients, so good in their several
kinds, and so much niceness in mixing them, that for some thousands of
years men have despaired of reducing their schemes to perfection. But,
in conversation, it is, or might be otherwise; for here we are only to
avoid a multitude of errors, which, although a matter of some
difficulty, may be in every man's power, for want of which it remaineth
as mere an idea as the other. Therefore it seemeth to me, that the
truest way to understand conversation, is to know the faults and errors
to which it is subject, and from thence every man to form maxims to
himself whereby it may be regulated, because it requireth few talents
to which most men are {52} not born, or at least may not acquire
without any great genius or study. For nature hath left every man a
capacity of being agreeable, though not of shining in company; and
there are an hundred men sufficiently qualified for both, who, by a
very few faults, that they might correct in half an hour, are not so
much as tolerable.

I was prompted to write my thoughts upon this subject by mere
indignation, to reflect that so useful and innocent a pleasure, so
fitted for every period and condition of life, and so much in all men's
power, should be so much neglected and abused.

And in this discourse it will be necessary to note those errors that
are obvious, as well as others which are seldomer observed, since there
are few so obvious, or acknowledged, into which most men, some time or
other, are not apt to run.

For instance: Nothing is more generally exploded than the folly of
talking too much; yet I rarely remember to have seen five people
together, where some one among them hath not been predominant in that
kind, to the great constraint and disgust of all the rest. But among
such as deal in multitudes of words, none are comparable to the sober
deliberate talker, who proceedeth with much thought and caution, maketh
his preface, brancheth out into several digressions, findeth a hint
that putteth him in mind of another story which he promiseth to tell
you when this is done; cometh back regularly to his subject, cannot
readily call to mind some person's name, holding his head, complaineth
of his memory; the whole company all this while in {53} suspense; at
length says, it is no matter, and