Custom is Another Nature; and what betwixt Obstinacy, and Sloth, let it
be never so ill, and inconvenient, People are very Hard yet to Quit it.
He that does Nothing at all, does Worse then He, that upon the Account
of Humane Frailty, does Amiss; for nothing can be more contrary to God
Himself, who is a Pure Act, then the Sleeping and Drowsing away of our
Life and Reason, that was given us for so many Better Purposes. The
_Frog_ in the High-way here, is the Lively Figure of such a Man; for a
Life of Sloth is the Life of a Log, rather then the Life of a Reasonable
Creature. ’Tis as much as a Body can well do, even with the Uttermost of
his Prudence and Industry, to Rub through the Difficulties of the World,
though he should keep himself perpetually a Doing. There is not perchance
a more Insupportable Misery in Nature, then it would be, to put the Body
into a Frame, that should keep it always in the same Posture. What can be
said worse of Slothfulness now, when the very Vice is Equal to the most
Exquisite of Torments? It is Odious to God and Man, Useless to the World,
Irksom to it Self, Miserable in All Estates, and utterly Incapable either
of Tasting, or Enjoying any thing of Comfort. The _Frog_ was used to the
Place, she said, and rather then Stir to help her Self, there she lay
till her Guts were Pash’d out.