AWhoever will closely observe this sort of people, who are very widespread, will find, as I have, that most of the time they understand neither themselves nor others, and that they have a full enough memory but an entirely hollow judgment, unless their nature has of itself fashioned it otherwise: as I have seen in Adrianus Turnebus, who, having had no other profession but letters, in which, in my opinion, he was the greatest man that has been in a thousand years, had nevertheless nothing pedantic about him but the gown he wore and a certain external mannerism that might not be civilized by a
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