Their breath clears the atmosphere: their exhalations air the world.

Of men, they are the good measures; brimmed, heaped, pressed down, piled up, and running over.

They are as ships from Teneriffe; swimming deep, full of old wine, and twenty steps down into their holds.

Soft and susceptible, all round they are easy of entreaty.

Wherefore, for all their rotundity, they are too often circumnavigated by hatchet-faced knaves.