His riches are like a dunghill, that renders the
ground unprofitable that it lies upon, and is good for nothing until it
be spread and scattered abroad.
A SWEARER
Is one that sells the devil the best pennyworth that he meets with
anywhere, and, like the Indians that part with gold for glass beads, he
damns his soul for the slightest trifles imaginable. He betroths himself
oftener to the devil in one day than Mecaenas did in a week to his wife,
that he was married a thousand times to. His discourse is inlaid with
oaths as the gallows is with nails, to fortify it against the assaults
of those whose friends have made it their deathbed. He takes a
preposterous course to be believed and persuade you to credit what he
says, by saying that which at the best he does not mean; for all the
excuse he has for his voluntary damning of himself is, that he means
nothing by it. He is as much mistaken in what he does intend really, for
that which he takes for the ornament of his language renders it the most
odious and abominable. His custom of swearing takes away the sense of
his saying. His oaths are but a dissolute formality of speech and the
worst kind of affectation. He is a Knight-Baronet of the Post, or
gentleman blasphemer, that swears for his pleasure only; a lay-affidavit
man, _in voto_ only and not in orders. He learned to swear, as magpies
do to speak, by hearing others. He talks nothing but bell, book, and
candle, and delivers himself over to Satan oftener than a Presbyterian
classis would do.
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