To see a man assume every shape like a chameleon, or like Proteus, “transforming himself into every monstrous form,” playing twenty roles and persons at once; shifting with circumstances for his own advantage and changing like the planet Mercury, good among the good, bad among the bad; with a different face, manner, and character for everyone he meets, accommodating every religion, temperament, and inclination; fawning like a spaniel “with false and mimicked deference,” raging like a lion, barking like a cur, fighting like a dragon, stinging like a serpent; meek as a lamb, then baring his teeth like a tiger, weeping like a crocodile; lording it over some while others lord it over him, commanding here, cringing there, tyrannizing in one place and being humiliated in another; a wise man at home, a fool abroad to make others laugh.

To see such a difference between words and deeds, so many leagues between tongue and heart; men playing all kinds of roles like actors, giving others good advice, soaring aloft while they themselves crawl on the ground.

To see a man profess friendship and kiss the hand of someone “he would rather see mutilated”; smile while intending harm, or cheat the man he greets; heap extravagant praise on an unworthy friend, yet vilify and disgrace an enemy, however good a man, and all his actions, with the worst that envy and malice can invent.

To see a servant rich enough to buy out his master, the mace-bearer worth more than the magistrate—a thing Plato absolutely forbids in book 11 of the Laws, and Epictetus abhors. A horse that tills the land is fed on chaff, while an idle nag has feed in abundance; the shoemaker goes barefoot, the food seller is nearly starved; the labouring drudge wastes away, while the idle drone prospers.

To see men buy smoke instead of goods, castles built from fools’ heads, men aping the fashions in dress, gestures, and conduct: if the king laughs, everyone laughs. You laugh? He shakes with louder laughter; he weeps if he sees his friend in tears. Alexander bent his head; so did his courtiers. Alfonso turned his head; so did his flatterers. Poppaea Sabina, Nero’s wife, wore amber-coloured hair; in an instant, so did all the Roman ladies. Her fashion became theirs.

To see people wholly governed by their feelings, admired or condemned on the strength of opinion without judgement; a thoughtless crowd, like the dogs in a village—if one barks, they all bark for no reason. As fortune’s fan turns, if a man is in favour or praised by someone powerful, the whole world applauds him. If he falls into disgrace, they all hate him at once. Like people watching an eclipse of the sun, those who previously paid him no attention now gaze and stare.

To see a man wear his brains in his belly, his guts in his head, a hundred oaks on his back; devour a hundred oxen at a meal, or more—devour houses and towns, or, like those “man-eaters,” eat other people. To see a man swell like a rolling snowball from abject poverty into worshipful and honourable titles, forcing his way unjustly into honours and offices; another deny himself every pleasure and damn his soul to accumulate wealth he will never enjoy, only for his wasteful son to dissolve and consume it in an instant.

To see the “misguided imitation” of our times: a man bending all his strength, resources, time, and fortune to become a favourite’s favourite’s favourite, and so on—a flatterer’s flatterer’s flatterer—so that, having enough already, he can scorn the servile world.

To see a shaggy beggar’s child, who lately lived on scraps, crawled and whined, begged from everyone, and ran errands for an old jacket, now swagger in silk and satin, splendidly mounted, jovial and polished; now scorn his old friends and companions, neglect his relatives, lord it over his betters, and domineer over everyone.

To see a scholar cringe and crawl to an illiterate peasant for a meal; a clerk paid better for drawing up a bond; a falconer earning more than a scholar; a lawyer making more in a day than a philosopher in a year, better rewarded for an hour than a scholar for twelve months’ study; someone who can paint Thais, play the fiddle, curl hair, and so on, advancing sooner than a student of literature or a poet.

To see a foolishly doting mother, like Aesop’s ape, hug her child to death; a willing cuckold turn a blind eye to his wife’s chastity while being all too sharp-sighted in everything else; someone stumble over a straw and leap over a block; rob Peter to pay Paul; rake in ill-gotten money with one hand, acquiring great estates through corruption, fraud, and cheating, while giving generously to the poor with the other, setting aside a remnant for pious purposes, and so on. Penny wise, pound foolish; blind men judging colours; wise men silent, fools talking; people finding fault with others while doing worse themselves; publicly denouncing what they do in secret; and, as Aurelius Victor says of Augustus, severely condemning in a third party what they themselves are most guilty of.

To see a poor fellow or hired servant risk his life for a new master who will scarcely pay his wages at the year’s end; a country tenant toil and sweat, plough and drudge for a wasteful, idle drone who devours all the profit or dissipates it in extravagant pleasures; a nobleman defy death in a show of bravado and throw his life away for a brief flash of honour; a worldly man tremble at an executor, yet have no fear of hellfire; someone wish and hope for immortality and happiness, yet do everything to avoid death, the necessary passage to it.