[_double rule_] A MELANCHOLY MAN I²s one, that keeps the worſt Company in the World, that is, his own; and tho' he be al- ways falling out and quarrelling with himſelf, yet he has not power to endure any other Con- verſation. His Head is haunted, like a Houſe, with evil Spirits and Apparitions, that terrify and fright him out of himſelf, till he ſtands empty and forſaken. His Sleeps and his Wa- kings are ſo much the ſame, that he knows not how to diſtinguiſh them, and many times when he dreams, he believes he is broad awake and ſees Viſions. The Fumes and Vapours that riſe from his Spleen and Hypocondries have ſo ſmutched and ſullied his Brain (like a Room that ſmoaks) that his Underſtanding is blear-ey'd, and has no right Perception of any Thing. His Soul lives in his Body, like a Mole in the Earth, that labours in the Dark, and caſts up Doubts and Scruples of his own ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Imagination, to make that rugged and uneaſy, that was plain and open before. His Brain is ſo cracked, that he fancies himſelf to be Glaſs, and is afraid that every Thing he comes near ſhould break him in Pieces. Whatſoever makes an Impreſſion in his Imagination works it ſelf in like a Screw, and the more he turns and winds it, the deeper it ſticks, till it is never to be got out again. The Temper of his Brain being earthy, cold, and dry, is apt to breed Worms, that ſink ſo deep into it, no Medicine in Art or Nature is able to reach them. He leads his Life, as one leads a Dog in a Slip that will not follow, but is dragged along until he is almoſt hanged, as he has it often under Conſideration to treat himſelf in convenient Time and Place, if he can but catch himſelf alone. After a long and mortal Feud between his inward and his outward Man, they at length agree to meet without Seconds, and decide the Quarrel, in which the one drops, and the other ſinks out fo the Way, and makes his Eſcape into ſome foreign World, from whence is it never after heard of. He converſes with nothing ſo much as his own Imagination, which being apt to miſrepreſent Things to him, ------------------------------------------------------------------------ makes him believe, that it is ſomething elſe than it is, and that he holds Intelligence with Spirits, that reveal whatſoever he fancies to him, as the antient rude People, that firſt heard their own Voices repeated by Echoes in the Woods, concluded it muſt proceed from ſome invisible Inhabitants of thoſe ſolitary Places, which they after believed to be Gods, and called them _Sylvans, Fauns,_ and _Dryads._ He makes the Infirmity of his Temper paſs for Revelations, as _Mahomet_ did by his falling Sickneſs, and inſpires himſelf with the Wind of his own Hypocondries. He laments, like _Heraclitus_ the Maudlin Philoſopher, at other Men's Mirth, and take Pleaſures in nothing but his own un-ſober Sadneſs. His Mind is full of Thoughts, but they are all empty, like a Neſt of Boxes. He ſleeps little, but dreams much, and ſoundeſt when he is waking. He ſees Viſions further off than a ſecond-ſighted Man in _Scotland,_ and dreams upon a hard Point with admirable Judgement. He is juſt ſo much worſe than a Madman, as he is below him in Degree of Frenzy; for among Madmen the moſt mad govern all the reſt, and receive a natural Obedience from their Inferiors. ------------------------------------------------------------------------