His outward man is a saint and his inward man a
reprobate, for he carries his vices in his heart and his religion in
his face.
A PROSELYTE.
A priest stole him out of the cradle, like the fairies, and left a fool
and changeling in his place. He new dyes his religion, and commonly into
a sadder and darker colour than it was before. He gives his opinion the
somersault and turns the wrong side of it outwards. He does not mend his
manners, but botch them with patches of another stuff and colour. Change
of religion, being for the most part used by those who understand not
why one religion is better than another, is like changing of money two
sixpences for a shilling; both are of equal value, but the change is for
convenience or humour. There is nothing more difficult than a change of
religion for the better, for as all alterations in judgment are derived
from a precedent confessed error, that error is more probably like to
produce another than anything of so different a nature as truth. He
imposes upon himself in believing the infirmity of his nature to be the
strength of his judgment, and thinks he changes his religion when he
changes himself, and turns as naturally from one thing to another as a
maggot does to a fly. He is a kind of freebooty and plunder, or one head
of cattle driven by the priests of one religion out of the quarters of
another, and they value him above two of their own; for, beside the
glory of the exploit, they have a better title to him (as he that is
conquered is more in the power of him that subdued him than he that was
born his subject), and they expect a freer submission from one that
takes quarter than from those that were under command before.
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