TherearesomethatprofessIdlenessinitsfulldignity， whocallthemselvestheIdle， asBusirisintheplay "callshimselftheProud"； whoboastthattheydonothing， andthanktheirstarsthattheyhavenothingtodo； whosleepeverynighttilltheycansleepnolonger， andriseonlythatexercisemayenablethemtosleepagain； whoprolongthereignofdarknessbydoublecurtains， andneverseethesunbutto "tellhimhowtheyhatehisbeams"； whosewholelaboristovarytheposturesofindulgence， andwhosedaydiffersfromtheirnightbutasacouchorchairdiffersfromabed.
ThesearethetrueandopenvotariesofIdleness， forwhomsheweavesthegarlandsofpoppies3， andintowhosecupshepoursthewatersofoblivion； whoexistinastateofunruffledstupidity， forgettingandforgotten； whohavelongceasedtolive， andatwhosedeaththesurvivorscanonlysay， thattheyhaveceasedtobreathe.
ButIdlenesspredominatesinmanyliveswhereitisnotsuspected； forbeingavicewhichterminatesinitself， itmaybeenjoyedwithoutinjurytoothers； andisthereforenotwatchedlikeFraud， whichendangersproperty， orlikePride， whichnaturallyseeksitsgratificationsinanother' ， thatneitherraisesenvybyostentation， norhatredbyopposition； andthereforenobodyisbusytocensureordetectit.
AsPridesometimesishidunderhumility， ， naturallyendeavorstocrowdhismindwithsomethingthatmaybarouttheremembranceofhisownfolly， anddoesanythingbutwhatheoughttodowitheagerdiligence， thathemaykeephimselfinhisownfavor.
