whofe Modesty otherwife would have fuppreffed it. It may feem very wonderful to an arrogant Modern, That Multum fanguinis, multum Verecundia, multum Solicitudinis in Ore; to have the Face first full of Blood, then the Countenance dafhed with Modefty, and then the whole Aspect of one dying with Fear, when a Man begins to fpeak, fhould be efteemed by Pliny the neceffary Qualifications of a fine Speaker. But leaft an Eulogium on Modefty may feem a Digreffion in a Treatife upon Pride, I fhall beg leave to confider it in the View of Humility, which is the direct Opposite of this Vice. The humble Man though he be not out of his own Favour, no Man fets fo low a Value on his own Worth as himfelf; not out of Ignorance or Carelefnefs; but of a voluntary and meek Dejectedness. His Eyes are full of his own Wants, and others Perfections: He loveth rather to give than to take Honour; not in a Fashion of Complimental Courtesy, but in Simplicity of his Judgment; when he hath but his Due, he magnifieth Courtefy, and difclaimeth his Deferts. His Face, his Carriage, his Habit, favour of Lowlinefs without Affectation, and yet he is much under that he feemeth. There is no better Object of Benificence; for what what he receives, he afcribes merely to the Bounty of the Giver, nothing to Merit. He emulates no Man in any Thing but Goodness, and that with more Defire than Hope to overtake. In a Word, he is as a lowly Valley, fweetly planted, and well watered; the proud Man's Earth, whereon he tramples; but fecretly full of wealthy Mines, more worth than he that walks over them. This is the Character of the humble Man; let us now take a View of the proud and arrogant one. All his Humour riles up into the Froth of Oftentation, which if it once fettle, falls down into a narrower Room. He is proud even of another Man's Horfe; and well mounted, thinks every Man wrongs him that looks not at him. A bare Head in the Street doth him more Good than a Meals Meat ; He picks his Teeth when his Stomach is empty, and calls for Pheasants at a common Inn; you fhall find him prizing the richeft Jewels, and the fairest Horfes, when his Purfe yields not Money enough for Earnest. He thrufts himfelf into the Prefs before fome great Ladies; and loves to be feen near the Head a great Train. His Talk is, how many Mourners he furnifhed with Cloaks at his Father's Funerai; how rich his Coat is; and how an cient, how great his Alliance; how fignal his Exploits; and when he has commended others Buildings, Furniture, or Suits, compares them with his own. When he has undertaken to be Broker for fome rich Jewel, he wears it; and pulling off his Glove to ftroke up his Hair, thinks no Eye fhould have any other Object. Entertaining his Friends, he chides his Cook for no better Chear; and names the Dishes he meant and wants. To conclude his Character, he is ever on the Stage, and acts ftill a glorious Part abroad, when no Man carries a bafer Heart, no Man is more fordid and carelefs at Home. He is a Spanish Soldier on an Italian Theatre; a Bladder full of Wind, a Skin full of Words, a Fool's Wonder, and a wife Man's Fool. The Inftability of human Affairs, the Turns and Viciffitudes of Fortune, and the fudden Falls from the moft fwoln Ambition, are Subjects which ought to difcountenance our Pride; Shakespear has an admirable Paffage on this Head, which deferves a Place in all moral Writings. Farewell, a long Farewell to all my Greatness! This is the State of Man; to Day, he puts forth The tender Leaves of Hopes; to Morrow bloffoms. And And bears his blushing Honours thick upon bim; The third Day comes a Frost, a killing Froft ; And when he thinks, good eafy Man, full furely, His Greatness is a rip'ning, nips his Root, This many a Summer in a Sea of Glory, At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and Old with Service, to the Mercy Of a Rude Stream, that must for ever hide me. The most plaufible Pretences for Thoughts of Pride, are Learning, Nobility, and Power, as they are in general accounted the brightest and most distinguishing Advantages: Yet I believe there is much more Weight laid upon them, than in ftrict Reason they will bear. Learning and high Conceit agree very ill together; for a Man of Letters muft have a clear Notion of the Stupidness and Deformity of this Vice; and being better acquainted with the Frame and Paffions of human Nature he cannot chufe but discover discover how unacceptable it must make him to all Mankind. Befides that Learning gives us a fuller Conviction of the Imperfection of our Nature; which one would think might difpofe us to Modesty. The more a Man knows, the more he discovers his Ignorance. He can scarce look upon any Part of the Creation, but he finds himself encompaffed with Doubts and Difficulties. He knows he has a Being, 'tis true; and fo does a Peasant; but what this Thing is which he calls himself, is hard to fay. And as the more refined Understandings know little or nothing of themselves, and of this material World; fo, upon Enquiry, we shall find them as defective in their Skill about moral Truths. We fee how unaccountably the public Conftitutions of Nations vary as if Right and Wrong lay in the Fancies of Men, rather than in the Reafons of Things. The Heathen Philofophers may fairly be granted to have as good Pretences to Learning, as any other Sort of Men among them; and yet what a fmall Proportion of folid Knowledge were they Mafters of? How ftrangely did they differ in Matters of the highest Import, how eagerly difpute, and not without Probability on both Sides? It were: tedious to recount |