He is a good shuffler in
the world, wherein he is so oft putting forth, that at length he puts
on. He can do some things, but dare do much more, and is like a
desperate soldier, who will assault any thing where he is sure not to
enter. He is not so well opinioned of himself, as industrious to make
others, and thinks no vice so prejudicial as blushing. He is still
citing for himself, that a candle should not be hid under a bushel; and
for his part he will be sure not to hide his, though his candle be but a
snuff or rush-candle. Those few good parts he has, he is no niggard in
displaying, and is like some needy flaunting goldsmith, nothing in the
inner room, but all on the cupboard. If he be a scholar, he has commonly
stepped into the pulpit before a degree, yet into that too before he
deserved it. He never defers St. Mary's beyond his regency, and his next
sermon is at Paul's cross,[68] [and that printed.] He loves publick
things alive; and for any solemn entertainment he will find a mouth,
find a speech who will. He is greedy of great acquaintance and many, and
thinks it no small advancement to rise to be known. [He is one that has
all the great names at court at his fingers' ends, and their lodgings;
and with a saucy, "my lord," will salute the best of them.] His talk at
the table is like Benjamin's mess, five times to his part, and no
argument shuts him out for a quarreller. Of all disgraces he endures not
to be nonplussed, and had rather fly for sanctuary to nonsense which few
descry, than to nothing, which all.
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