III. A proud man makes an ill child, servant, and subject; he contemns his parents, master, and prince; he will not be subject. He thinks himself too wise, or too old, to be directed; as if it were a slavish thing to obey; and that none were free that may not do what they please; which turns duty out of doors and degrades authority. On the other hand, if he be a husband, or father, or master, there is scarcely any enduring: he is so insufferably curious and testy that it is an affliction to live with him; for hardly can any hand carry it even enough to please him. Some peccadillo about his clothes, his diet, his lodging, or attendance quite disorders him: but especially if he fancies any want of the state and respect he looks for. Thus pride destroys the nature of relations: on the one side, learns to contemn duty; and on the other side, it turns love into fear, and makes the wife a servant, and the children and servants slaves. IV. But the proud man makes an ill neighbour too; for he is an enemy to hospitality: he despises to receive kindness, because he would not show any, nor be thought to need it. Besides, it looks too equal and familiar for his haughty humour. Emulation and detraction are his element; for he is jealous of attributing any praise to others, where just; lest that should cloud and lessen him, to whom it never could be due: he is the man that fears, what he should wish, to wit, that others should do well. But that is not all; he maliciously miscalls their acts of virtue, which his corruptions will not let him imitate, that they may get no credit by them. If he wants any occasion of doing mischief, he can make one: either they use him ill, or have some design upon him; the other day they paid him not the cap and knee; the distance and respect he thinks his quality, parts, or merits do require. A small thing serves a proud man to pick a quarrel; of all creatures the most jealous, sullen, spiteful and revengeful: he can no more forgive an injury, than forbear to do one. V. Nor is this all: a proud man can never be a friend to anybody. For besides that his ambition may always be bribed by honour and preferment to betray that relation, he is unconversable; he must not be catechised and counselled, much less reproved or contradicted: no, he is too covetous of himself to spare another man a share, and much too high, stiff, and touchy: he will not away with those freedoms that a real friendship requires. To say true, he contemns the character; it is much too familiar and humble for him: his mighty soul would know nothing besides himself and vassals to stock the world. He values other men, as we do cattle, for their service only; and, if he could, would use them so; but as it happens, the number and force are unequal.