His shop is his well stuft book, and himself the title-page of it, or
index. He utters much to all men, though he sells but to a few, and
intreats for his own necessities, by asking others what they lack. No
man speaks more and no more, for his words are like his wares, twenty of
one sort, and he goes over them alike to all comers. He is an arrogant
commender of his own things; for whatsoever he shows you is the best in
the town, though the worst in his shop. His conscience was a thing that
would have laid upon his hands, and he was forced to put it off, and
makes great use of honesty to profess upon. He tells you lies by rote,
and not minding, as the phrase to sell in and the language he spent most
of his years to learn. He never speaks so truly as when he says he would
use you as his brother; for he would abuse his brother, and in his shop
thinks it lawful. His religion is much in the nature of his customer's,
and indeed the pander to it: and by a mis-interpreted sense of scripture
makes a gain of his godliness. He is your slave while you pay him ready
money, but if he once befriend you, your tyrant, and you had better
deserve his hate than his trust.