He never draws his own lips higher than a smile, and frowns
wrinkle him before forty. He at last falls into that deadly melancholy
to be a bitter hater of men, and is the most apt companion for any
mischief. He is the spark that kindles the commonwealth, and the bellows
himself to blow it: and if he turn any thing, it is commonly one of
these, either friar, traitor, or mad-man.
AN ANTIQUARY.
He is a man strangely thrifty of time past, and an enemy indeed to his
maw, whence he fetches out many things when they are now all rotten and
stinking. He is one that hath that unnatural disease to be enamoured of
old age and wrinkles, and loves all things (as Dutchmen do cheese), the
better for being mouldy and worm-eaten. He is of our religion, because
we say it is most antient; and yet a broken statue would almost make him
an idolater. A great admirer he is of the rust of old monuments, and
reads only those characters, where time hath eaten out the letters. He
will go you forty miles to see a saint's well or a ruined abbey; an
there be but a cross or stone foot-stool in the way, he'll be
considering it so long, till he forget his journey. His estate consists
much in shekels, and Roman coins; and he hath more pictures of Caesar,
than James or Elizabeth. Beggars cozen him with musty things which they
have raked from dung-hills, and he preserves their rags for precious
relics. He loves no library, but where there are more spiders' volumes
than authors', and looks with great admiration on the antique work of
cobwebs.
Pages:
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206