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Many a Man is murthered by the well-meant Mistakes of his unthinking Friends.
A weak Friend, if he will be kind, ought to go no farther than Wishes; if he proffereth either to say, or to do, it is dangerous.
A Man had as good go to Bed to a Razor, as to be intimate with a foolish Friend.
Mistaken Kindness is little less dangerous than premeditated Malice.
A Man hath not the Relief of being angry at the Blows of a mistaken Friend.
A busy Fool is fitter to be shut up than a downright Madman.
A Man that hath only Wit enough not to do Hurt, committeth a Sin if he aimeth at doing Good.
His pa.s.sive Understanding must not pretend to be active.
It is a Sin against Nature for such a Man to be meddling.
It is hard to find a Blockhead so wise as to be upon the Defensive; he will be sallying, and then he is sure to be ill used.
If a dull Fool can make a Vow and keep it, never to speak his own Sense, or do his own Business, he may pa.s.s a great while for a rational Creature.
A Blockhead is as ridiculous when he talketh, as a Goose is when it flieth.
The grating a Gridiron is not a worse Noise, than the jingling of Words is to a Man of Sense.
It is Ill-manners to silence a Fool, and Cruelty to let him go on.
Most Men make little other use of their Speech than to give evidence against their own Understanding.
A great Talker may be a Man of Sense, but he cannot be one, who will venture to rely upon him.
There is so much Danger in Talking, that a Man strictly wise can hardly be called a sociable Creature.
The great Expence of Words is laid out in _setting ourselves out_, or _deceiving_ others; to _convince_ them requireth but a few.
Many Words are always either suspicious or ridiculous.
A Fool hath no Dialogue within himself, the first Thought carrieth him without the Reply of a second.
A Fool will admire or like nothing that he understands, a Man of Sense nothing but what he understands.
Wise Men gain, and poor Men live, by the Superfluities of Fools.
Till Follies become ruinous, the World is better with than it would be without them.
A Fool is angry that he is the Food of a Knave, forgetting that it is the End of his Creation.
_Of_ HOPE.
Hope is a kind Cheat; in the Minute of our Disappointment we are angry, but upon the whole matter there is no Pleasure without it.
It is so much a pleasanter thing than Truth to the greatest Part of the World, that it hath all their Kindness, the other only hath their Respect.
Hope is generally a wrong Guide, though it is very good Company by the way. It brusheth through Hedge and Ditch till it cometh to a great Leap, and there it is apt to fall and break its Bones.
It would be well if Hopes carried Men only to the top of the Hill, without throwing them afterwards down the Precipice.
The Hopes of a Fool are blind Guides, those of a Man of Sense doubt often of their Way.
Men should do with their Hopes as they do with tame Fowl, cut their Wings that they may not fly over the Wall.
A _hoping_ Fool hath such terrible Falls, that his Brains are turned, though not cured by them.
The _Hopes_ of a Fool are Bullets he throws into the Air, that fall down again and break his Skull.
There can be no entire Disappointment to a wise Man, because he maketh it a Cause of succeeding another time. A Fool is so unreasonably raised by his _Hopes_, that he is half dead by a Disappointment: his mistaken Fancy draweth him so high, that when he falleth, he is sure to break his Bones.
_Of_ ANGER.
Anger is a better Sign of the Heart than of the Head; it is a breaking out of the Disease of Honesty. Just Anger may be as dangerous as it could be if there was no Provocation to it; for a Knave is not so nice a Casuist but that he will ruin, if he can, any Man that blameth him.
Where Ill-nature is not predominant, Anger will be short-breathed, it cannot hold out a long Course. Hatred can be tired and cloyed as well as Love: for our Spirits, like our Limbs, are tired with being long in one Posture.
There is a Dignity in Good-sense that is offended and defaced by Anger.
Anger is never without an Argument, but seldom with a good one.
Anger raiseth Invention but it overheateth the Oven.
Anger, like Drink, raiseth a great deal of unmannerly Wit.
True Wit must come by Drops; Anger throweth it out in a Stream, and then it is not likely to be of the best kind.
Ill Language punisheth Anger by drawing a Contempt upon it.
_Of_ APOLOGIES.
It is a dangerous Task to answer Objections, because they are helped by the Malice of Mankind.
A bold Accusation doth at first draw such a general Attention, that it gets the World on its side.
To a Man who hath a mind to find a Fault, an Excuse generally giveth farther hold.
Explaining is generally half confessing.