It is vile, and a poor thing to place
our happiness on these desires. Say we wanted them all. Famine
ends famine.
De mollibus et effoeminatis.--There is nothing valiant or solid to
be hoped for from such as are always kempt and perfumed, and every
day smell of the tailor; the exceedingly curious that are wholly in
mending such an imperfection in the face, in taking away the morphew
in the neck, or bleaching their hands at midnight, gumming and
bridling their beards, or making the waist small, binding it with
hoops, while the mind runs at waste; too much pickedness is not
manly. Not from those that will jest at their own outward
imperfections, but hide their ulcers within, their pride, lust,
envy, ill-nature, with all the art and authority they can. These
persons are in danger, for whilst they think to justify their
ignorance by impudence, and their persons by clothes and outward
ornaments, they use but a commission to deceive themselves: where,
if we will look with our understanding, and not our senses, we may
behold virtue and beauty (though covered with rags) in their
brightness; and vice and deformity so much the fouler, in having all
the splendour of riches to gild them, or the false light of honour
and power to help them.
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