far his superiors) may perchance be conscious. of want of skill in those languages, whilst the heretic hereby gains credit to his cause and

person.

His behavior is seemingly very pious and devout. How foul soever the postern and backdoor be, the gate opening to the street is swept and garnished, and his outside adorned with pretended austerity.

He is extremely proud and discontented with the times, quarrelling that many beneath him in piety are above him in place. This pride hath caused many men, which otherwise might have been shining lights, prove smoking firebrands in the Church.

Having first hammered the heresy in himself, he then falls to seducing of others: so hard it is for one to have the itch and not to scratch. Yea, Babylon herself will allege that for Zion's sake she will not hold her peace. The necessity of propagating the truth is error's plea to divulge her falsehoods. Men, as naturally they desire to know, so they desire what they know should be known.

If challenged to a private dispute, his impudence bears him out. He counts it the only error to confess he hath erred. His face is of brass, which may be said either ever or never to blush. In disputing, his modus is sine modo; and, as if all figures (even in logic) were mag

ical, he neglects all forms of reasoning, counting that the only syllogism which is his conclusion.

THE LIAR

S one that makes a trade to tell falsehoods with intent to deceive. He is either open or secret. A secret liar or equivocator is such a one as by mental reservations and other tricks deceives him to whom he speaks, being lawfully called to deliver all the truth; and sure speech being but a copy of the heart, it cannot be avouched for a true copy that hath less in it than the original. Hence it often comes to pass,

"When Jesuits unto us answer, Nay,

They do not English speak, 't is Greek they say." Such an equivocator we leave, more needing a book than character to describe him. The open liar is first, either mischievous, condemned by all; secondly, officious, unlawful also, because doing ill for good to come of it; thirdly, jesting, when in sport and merriment. And though some count a jesting lie to be like the dirt of oysters, which (they say) never stains, yet is it a sin in earnest. What policy is it for one to wound himself to tickle others, and

to stab his own soul to make the standers-by sport? We come to describe the liar.

At first he tells a lie with some shame and reluctancy. For then if he cuts off but a lap of truth's garment, his heart smites him; but in process of time he conquers his conscience, and from quenching it there ariseth a smoke which soots and fouls his soul, so that afterwards he lies without any regret.

Having made one lie, he is fain to make more to maintain it. For an untruth, wanting a firm foundation, needs many buttresses. The honor and happiness of the Israelites is the misery and mischief of lies, "Not one amongst them shall be barren," but miraculously procreative to beget others.

He hath a good memory which he badly abuseth. Memory in a liar is no more than needs. For, first, lies are hard to be remembered, because many, whereas truth is but one; secondly, because a lie, cursorily told, takes little footing and settled fastness in the teller's memory, but prints itself deeper in the hearers', who take the greater notice because of the improbability and deformity thereof; and one will remember the sight of a monster longer than the sight of a handsome body. Hence comes it to pass, that, when the liar hath forgotten himself, his auditors put him in mind of the lie, and take him therein.

Sometimes, though his memory cannot help him from being arrested for lying, his wit rescues him; which needs a long reach to bring all ends presently and probably together, gluing the splinters of his tales so cunningly that the cracks cannot be perceived. Thus a relic-monger bragged he could show a feather of the dove at Christ's baptism; but being to show it to the people, a wag had stolen away the feather and put a coal in the room of it. "Well," quoth he to the spectators, “I cannot be so good as my word for the present, but here is one of the coals that broiled St. Lawrence, and that's worth the seeing."

Being challenged for telling a lie, no man is more furiously angry. Then he draws his sword and threatens, because he thinks that an offer of revenge, to show himself moved at the accusation, doth in some sort discharge him of the imputation; as if the condemning of the sin in appearance acquitted him in effect; or else because he that is called a liar to his face is also called a coward in the same breath, if he swallows it; and the party charged doth conceive that if he vindicates his valor, his truth will be given him into the bargain.

At last, he believes his own lies to be true. He hath told them over and over so often, that prescription makes a right; and he verily believes that at the first he gathered the story out

of some authentical author, which only grew in his own brain.

No man else believes him when he speaks the truth. How much gold soever he hath in his chest, his word is but brass and passeth for nothing; yea, he is dumb in effect, for it is all one whether one cannot speak or cannot be believed.

To conclude: some of the West Indians, to expiate their sin of lying, used to let themselves blood in their tongues, and to offer the blood to their idols: a good cure for the squinancy, but no satisfaction for lying. God's Word hath taught us better: "What profit is there in my blood?" The true repentance of the party washed in the blood of Christ can only obtain pardon for this sin.

A

THE COMMON BARRATOR.

BARRATOR is a horse-leech, that only sucks the corrupted blood of the law. He trades only in tricks and quirks; his highway is in by-paths, and he loveth a cavil better than an argument, an evasion than an answer. There be two kinds of them: either such as fight themselves, or are trumpeters in a battle to set on others. The former is a professed