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 are two sorts of men who are the direct opposites to each other; the one sort, like Mr. Orgueil, live in a continual war with their passions, subdue their appetites, and act up to whatever they think right; they make it their business in all companies to exalt the dignity of human nature as high as they can; that is, to prove men are capable, if it was not their own fault, of arriving to a great degree of perfection, which they heartily consent every one should believe they themselves have done. The others give way to every temptation, make it their whole business to indulge themselves, without any consideration who are sufferers by it, or what consequences attend it; and as they are resolved to pull others down as low as themselves, they fall to abusing the whole species without any distinction, assert in all their conversation, that human nature is a sink of iniquity; every good action they hear of another, they impute to some bad motive; and the only difference they allow to be in men is, that some have art and hypocrisy enough to hide from undiscerning eyes the blackness that is within. In short, I they know they cannot be esteemed, and therefore cannot bear another should enjoy what they either can't or won't take the pains to attain. "Thus there is no end of their arguments, which may be all summed up in a very few words: for the one sort only contend, that they themselves may be allowed to be perfect, and therefore that it is possible; and the other, as they know themselves to be good for nothing, modestly desire, that, for their sakes, you will be so kind as to suffer all mankind to appear in the same light; whence you are to conclude, that their faults are owing to nature; they cannot help it. They have, indeed, some little pleasure in reflecting that they have this superiority over others, that while they endeavour to deceive people, and impose on their understandings, they