the same sense of it that he has; as melancholy persons that fancy themselves to be glass believe that all others think them so too; and therefore that which is tedious to others is not so to him, otherwise he would avoid it; for it does not so often proceed from a natural defect as affectation and desire to give others that pleasure which they find themselves, though it always falls out quite contrary.  He that converses with him is like one that travels with a companion that rides a lame jade; he must either endure to go his pace or stay for him; for though he understands long before what he would be at better than he does himself, he must have patience and stay for him, until, with much ado to little purpose, he at length comes to him; for he believes himself injured if he should bate a jot of his own diversion.

A PRETENDER

Is easily acquainted with all knowledges, but never intimate with any; he remembers he has seen them somewhere before, but cannot possibly call to mind where.  He will call an art by its name, and claim acquaintance with it at first sight.  He knew it perfectly, as the Platonics say, in the other world, but has had the unhappiness to discontinue his acquaintance ever since his occasions called him into this.  He claps on all the sail he can possibly make, though his vessel be empty and apt to overset.  He is of a true philosophical temper, contented with a little, desires no more knowledge than will satisfy nature, and cares not what his wants are so he can but keep them from the eyes of the world.  His parts are unlimited; for as no man knows his abilities, so he does his endeavour that as few should his defects.  He wears himself in opposition to the mode, for his lining is much coarser than his outside; and as others line their serge with silk, he lines his silk with serge.  All his care is employed to appear not to be; for things that are not and things that appear not are not only the same in law, but in all other affairs of the world.  It should seem that the most impudent face is the best; for he that does the shamefulest thing most unconcerned is said to set a good face upon it; for the truth is, the face is but the outside of the mind, but all the craft is to know how ’tis lined.  Howsoever, he fancies himself as able as any man, but not being in a capacity to try the experiment, the hint-keeper of Gresham College is the only competent judge to decide the controversy.  He may, for anything he knows, have as good a title to his pretences as another man; for judgment being not past in the case (which shall never be by his means), his title still stands fair.  All he can possibly attain to is but to be another thing than nature meant him, though a much worse.  He makes that good that Pliny says of children, Qui celerius fari cepere, tardius ingredi incipiunt.  The apter he is to smatter, the slower he is in making any advance in his pretences.  He trusts words before he is thoroughly acquainted with them, and they commonly show him a trick before he is aware; and he shows at the same time his ignorance to the learned and his learning to the ignorant.