A Melancholie man

IS a straier from the droue: one that nature made sociable, because shee made him man, and a crazed disposi∣tion hath altered. Impleasing to all, as all to him; stragling thoughts are his content, they make him dreame wa∣king, there's his pleasure. His imagi∣nation is neuer idle, it keeps his minde in a continu all motion, as the poise the clocke: he windes vp his thoughts of∣ten, and as often vnwindes them; Pe∣nelopes webbe thriues faster. Hel'e sel∣dome be found without the shade of Page  [unnumbered] some groue, in whose bottom a riuer dwells. He carries a cloud in his face, neuer faire weather: his outside is fra∣med to his inside, in that he keepes a Decorum, both vnseemly. Speake to him, he heares with his eyes, eares fol∣low his mind, and that's not at leasure. Hee thinks businesse, but neuer does any: he is all contemplation, no actiō. He hewes and fashions his thoughts, as if he meant them to some purpose, but they proue vnprofitable, as a piece of wrought timber to no vse. His Spi∣rits and the Sunne are enemies; the Sunne bright and warme, his humor blacke and cold: varietie of foolish apparitions people his head, they suffer him not to breath, according to the necessities of nature; which makes him sup vp a draught of as much aire at once, as would serue at thrice. Hee denies nature her due in sleepe, and ouer-paies her with watchfulnesse: nothing pleaseth him long, but that which pleaseth his owne fantasies: Page  [unnumbered] they are the consuming euills, and euill consumptions, that consume him aliue. Lastly, he is a man only in shew, but comes short of the better part; a whole reasonable soule, which is mans chiefe preheminence, and sole marke from creatures sensible.