rich his coat is, and how ancient, how great his alliance; what challenges he hath made and answered; what exploits he did at Calais or Newport; and when he hath commended others’ buildings, furnitures, suits, compares them with his own.  When he hath undertaken to be the broker for some rich diamond, he wears it, and pulling off his glove to stroke up his hair, thinks no eye should have any other object.  Entertaining his friend, he chides his cook for no better cheer, and names the dishes he meant and wants.  To conclude, he is ever on the stage, and acts still a glorious part abroad, when no man carries a baser heart, no man is more sordid and careless at home.  He is a Spanish soldier on an Italian theatre, a bladder full of wind, a skinful of words, a fool’s wonder and a wise man’s fool.

OF THE PRESUMPTUOUS.

Presumption is nothing but hope out of his wits, an high house upon weak pillars.  The presumptuous man loves to attempt great things, only because they are hard and rare.  His actions are bold and venturous, and more full of hazard than use.  He hoisteth sail in a tempest, and sayeth never any of his ancestors were drowned.  He goes into an infected house, and says the plague dares not seize on noble blood.  He runs on high battlements, gallops down steep hills, rides over narrow bridges, walks on weak ice, and never thinks, What if I fall? but, What if I run over and fall not?  He is a confident alchemist, and braggeth that the womb of his furnace hath conceived a burden that will do all the world good; which yet he desires secretly borne, for fear of his own bondage.  In the meantime his glass breaks, yet he upon better luting lays wagers of the success, and promiseth wedges beforehand to his friend.  He saith, I will sin, and be sorry, and escape; either God will not see, or not be angry, or not punish it, or remit the measure.  If I do well, He is just to reward; if ill, He is merciful to forgive.  Thus his praises wrong God no less than his offence, and hurt himself no less than they wrong God.  Any pattern is enough to encourage him.  Show him the way where any foot hath trod, he dare follow, although he see no steps returning; what if a thousand have attempted, and miscarried, if but one hath prevailed it sufficeth.  He suggests to himself false hopes of never too late, as if he could command either time or repentance, and dare defer the expectation of mercy, till betwixt the bridge and the water.  Give him but where to set his foot, and he will remove the earth.  He foreknows the mutations of states, the events of war, the temper of the seasons; either his old prophecy tells it him, or his stars.  Yea, he is no stranger to the records of God’s secret counsel, but he turns them over, and copies them out at pleasure.  I know not whether in all his enterprises he show less fear or wisdom; no man promises himself more, no man more believes himself.  I will go and sell,