There was a Man and a Satyr that kept much together. The Man clapt his Fingers one Day to his Mouth, and blew upon 'em. What's that for? says the Satyr: Why, says he, my Hands are extream Cold, and I do't to warm 'em. The Satyr, at another time, found this Man blowing his Porridge: And pray, says he, What's the Meaning of that now? Oh! says the Man, my Porridge is Hot, and I do't to Cool it. Nay, says the Satyr, if you have gotten a Trick of blowing Hot and Cold out of the same Mouth, I have e'ev done with ye.
There's no Conversing with any Man that carries Two Faces under One Hood.