And the full pleasure of a proselyte lieth in the flattering of self?
A man of many praises meeteth many welcomes,
But he, who blameth often, shall not keep a friend;
The velvet-coated apricot is one thing, and the spiked horse-chestnut is another,
A handle of smooth amber is pleasanter than rough buck-horn.
Show me a popular man; I can tell thee the secret of his power;
He hath soothed them with glozing words, lulling their ears with flattery,
The smile of seeming approbation is ever the companion of his presence,
And courteous looks, and warm regards, earn him all their hearts.
Nothing but may be better, and every better might be best;