There is scarce a State of Life, or Stage in it which does not produce Changes and Revolutions in the Mind of Man.  Our Schemes of Thought in Infancy are lost in those of Youth; these too take a different Turn in Manhood, till old Age often leads us back into our former Infancy.  A new Title or an unexpected Success throws us out of ourselves, and in a manner destroys our Identity.  A cloudy Day, or a little Sunshine, have as great an Influence on many Constitutions, as the most real Blessings or Misfortunes.  A Dream varies our Being, and changes our Condition while it lasts; and every Passion, not to mention Health and Sickness, and the greater Alterations in Body and Mind, makes us appear almost different Creatures.  If a Man is so distinguished among other Beings by this Infirmity, what can we think of such as make themselves remarkable for it even among their own Species?  It is a very trifling Character to be one of the most variable Beings of the most variable Kind, especially if we consider that He who is the great Standard of Perfection has in him no Shadow of Change, but is the same Yesterday, To-day, and for ever.

As this Mutability of Temper and Inconsistency with our selves is the greatest Weakness of human Nature, so it makes the Person who is remarkable for it in a very particular Manner more ridiculous than any other Infirmity whatsoever, as it sets him in a greater Variety of foolish Lights, and distinguishes him from himself by an Opposition of party-coloured Characters.  The most humourous Character in Horace is founded upon this Unevenness of Temper and Irregularity of Conduct.

’...  Sardus habebat Ille Tigellius hoc:  Caesar qui cogere posset Si peteret per amicitiam patris, atque suam, non Quidquam proficeret:  Si collibuisset, ab ovo Usque ad mala citaret, Io Bacche, modo summa Voce, modo hac, resonat quae; chordis quatuor ima.  Nil aequale homini fuit illi:  Saepe velut qui Currebat fugiens hostem:  Persaepe velut qui Junonis sacra ferret:  Habebat saepe ducentos, Saepe decem servos:  Modo reges atque tetrarchas, Omnia magna loquens:  Modo sit mihi mensa tripes, et Concha salis puri, et toga, quae defendere frigus, Quamvis crassa, queat.  Decies centena dedisses Huic parco paucis contento, quinque diebus Nil erat in loculis.  Noctes vigilabat ad ipsum Mane:  Diem totam stertebat.  Nil fuit unquam Sic impar sibi ...’

  Hor.  ‘Sat. 3’, Lib. 1.

Instead of translating this Passage in Horace, I shall entertain my English Reader with the Description of a Parallel Character, that is wonderfully well finished by Mr. Dryden [3], and raised upon the same Foundation.

  ’In the first Rank of these did_ Zimri stand: 
  A Man so various, that he seem’d to be
  Not one, but all Mankind’s Epitome. 
  Stiff in Opinions, always in the wrong;
  Was ev’ry thing by Starts, and nothing long;
  But, in the Course of one revolving Moon,
  Was Chemist, Fidler, Statesman, and Buffoon: 
  Then all for Women, Painting, Rhiming, Drinking: 
  Besides ten thousand Freaks that dy’d in thinking. 
  Blest Madman, who cou’d ev’ry flour employ,
  With something New to wish, or to enjoy!’