Proteus of witt!

It is a curious imitative instinct, a slavery of the brain, to remain hypnotised by some point in the past, instead of trying to follow Proteus in his coursethe life of change.

No venial slip their quick attention 'scapes; They trace each Proteus through his hundred shapes; To Mirth's tribunal drag the caitiff train, Where Mercy sleeps, and Nature pleads in vain.

he could take As many forms and shapes in seeming wise As ever Proteus to himself could make: Sometimes a fowl, sometimes a fish in lake, Now like a fox, now like a dragon fell.