It is not my intention to degrade Pride from this preeminence of mischief， yet I know not whether idleness may not maintain a very doubtful and obstinate competition.
There are some that profess Idleness in its full dignity， who call themselves the Idle， as Busiris in the play “calls himself the Proud”； who boast that they do nothing， and thank their stars that they have nothing to do； who sleep every night till they can sleep no longer， and rise only that exercise may enable them to sleep again； who prolong the reign of darkness by double curtains， and never see the sun but to “tell him how they hate his beams”； whose whole labor is to vary the postures of indulgence， and whose day differs from their night but as a couch or chair differs from a bed.