If but an unseasonable shower cross
his recreation, he is ready to fall out with heaven, and thinks he is
wronged if God will not take his times when to rain, when to shine. He
is a slave to envy, and loseth flesh with fretting--not so much at his
own infelicity as at others' good; neither hath he leisure to joy in his
own blessings whilst another prospereth. Fain would he see some
mutinies, but dares not raise them; and suffers his lawless tongue to
walk through the dangerous paths of conceited alterations; but so, as in
good manners he had rather thrust every man before him when it comes to
acting. Nothing but fear keeps him from conspiracies, and no man is more
cruel when he is not manacled with danger. He speaks nothing but satires
and libels, and lodgeth no guests in his heart but rebels. The
inconstant and he agree well in their felicity, which both place in
change; but herein they differ--the inconstant man affects that which
will be, the malcontent commonly that which was. Finally, he is a
querulous cur, whom no horse can pass by without barking at; yea, in the
deep silence of night the very moonshine openeth his clamorous mouth. He
is the wheel of a well-couched firework, that flies out on all sides,
not without scorching itself. Every ear is long ago weary of him, and he
is now almost weary of himself. Give him but a little respite, and he
will die alone, of no other death than other's welfare.
OF THE INCONSTANT.
The inconstant man treads upon a moving earth and keeps no pace.
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