SATYRI­CAL ESSAYES CHARACTERS AND OTHERS. OR Accurate and quick De­scriptions, fitted to the life of their Subiects.

[...]

THEOPHRAS.

Aspice & he [...]s [...] sorte aliquid decoctius audis. Mile vapora [...] ector mihi serueat aure: luuen. Plagosas minime Plagtarius.

IOHN STEPHENS.

LONDON, Printed by Nicholas Okes, and are to be sold by Roger Barnes, at his Shop in Saint Dun­stanes Church-yard. 1615.

TO THE WOR­THY AND WORSHIP­full, my honored Friend, M r. THOMAS TVRNER Esquire, &c.

SIR,

YOVR approbation of some parcels, hath enti­tled you to all: and your alone worthinesse hath deserued all. If I entreate your Kindest iudgement, that is your Impar­tiall, to suruey this; I shall but rather furnish out a briefe Epi­stle, then instruct your know­ledge: which is already (I dare say) resolued, that the impartiall censure is the best, if soundest: of which you are prouided well to censure this. And if I tell you that instructions likewise may [Page] be heere admitted; though such as may confirme and not prouoke your detestation of basenesse; imagine that I meane no other­wise: Nay, if I tell you further, that some things heere included may modestly endure the name of knowledge; you shall but take the promise of my owne iudge­ment to encourage yours in the pervsall, by way of hazarding my whole credite: and so absolue me from the thought of Arro­gance. I wrong your patience and worth, by preparation of your way to reade and iudge. You are sufficient for me: and a­ble to conceiue, that all becomes your owne, as I would be, being your

Truely Affectionate I.S.

To the People.

MY Epistles haue no fortune to purifie mens apprehen­sion, much lesse to new create, or to increase their iudge­ments: Be therefore suddenly per­swaded to reclaime thy censure ha­uing viewed this, or be perpetually haunted with thy double mischiefe, Impudence and dulnesse. Take this along, and I haue done speedi­ly. Things bee heere censured so tractable, as if they and thou dis­claime acquaintance, thou must immediately be taken for one affe­cted to tyrannicall or clownish ig­norance: [Page] Be then thy owne Reader; thou needst not my comment: nor do I request thy fauourable constracti­on. Yet, if thou canst beleeue that perfect sense and meanings be not onely tied to publick fauourites, thou needst not bee ashamed to iustifie both mee and mine: If (otherwise) thou canst not relish; blame thy selfe onely, at thy owne perill.

The Contents.

THree Essayes of Cowardlinesse.
  • Essay 4. Of High-birth.
  • Essay 5. Of Disinheritance.
  • Essay 6. Of Poetry.
  • Essay 7. Of Discontents.
Two Bookes of Characters.
  • THE FIRST BOOKE.
    • Charact. 1. An impudent Censurer.
    • Charact. 2. A compleat Man.
    • Charact. 3. A good Husband,
    • Charact. 4. A contented Man.
    • Charact. 5. A good Emperour.
    • Charact. 6. A worthy Poet.
    • Charact. 7. An honest Lawyer.
    • Charact. 8. A Detractor.
    • [Page]Charact. 9. An Humorist.
    • Charact. 10. A Coxcombe.
    • Charact. 11. A Ranke Obseruer.
    • Charact. 12. A Parish-Polititian.
    • Charact. 13. A Spend-thrift.
    • Charact. 14. A Vbiquitarie.
    • Charact. 15. A Gamester.
    • Charact. 16. A Novice.
    • Charact. 17. An Epicure.
    • Charact. 18. A Churle.
    • Charact. 19. An Athiest.
    • Charact. 20. A Lyar.
    • Charact. 21. A Drunkard.
    • Charact. 22. A Begging Scholler.
  • THE SECOND BOOKE.
    • Charact. 1. A Iaylor.
    • Charact. 2. An informer.
    • Charact. 3. A base Mercenary Poet.
    • Charact. 4. A common Player.
    • Charact. 5. A Warrener.
    • Charact. 6. A Huntsman.
    • Charact. 7. A Fawlconer.
    • Charact. 8. A Farmer.
    • [Page]Charact. 9. An Hostesse.
    • Charact. 10. A Tapster.
    • Charact. 11. A Lawyers Clarke.
    • Charact. 12. A meere Atturney.
    • Charact. 13. A craftie Scriuener.
    • Charact. 14. A welsh Client.
    • Charact. 15. A Countrey Bride-groome.
    • Charact. 16. A Countrey Bride.
    • Charact. 17. My Mistresse.
    • Charact. 18. A Gossip.
    • Charact. 19. An old woman.
    • Charact. 20. A Witch.
    • Charact. 21. A Pandar.

A Caution.

BE once advisd, and thou shalt never take
A Mercenarie, though a famous man,
To proue the labours, which thy Muses make;
Each line although he doth directly scan.
Directly? no; he cannot so survay,
Except with resolution to persist:
But, if a while you do forbeare to pay,
His resolutions he doth all vntwist:
And (like a crafty Lawyer) though he frame
A formall iudgement to recover cost,
Yet brings a writ of error in the same:
So (by himselfe) his iudgements worth is lost.
Doth he not then his credit much deface?
No: that you would beleeue, he doth beseech
(If so his iudgement takes no common place)
His meaning held no concord with his speech.
Doth he recover credit then, or saue
Opinion kept perhaps aboue desert?
Impossible: for like a cheating Knaue,
Protested faith to shame he doth convert.
Friends oft be sparing: Poets of the Towne,
Value their iudgement, high aboue the rate:
Both may devise to bring the censure downe,
Yet both can never change a volumes fate.
Then rather let this worke commended be
By those (vnknowne) who know capacitie:
So shall each sentence that they do rehearse,
Prefixe a iust and laudatory verse.

A Friends Inuitation: no Flatterers Encomion.

WHen many are inuited to a Feast,
Thogh the inuiter doth not know his guest
And therefore cannot well provide in hast,
One dish so curious, as may please each tast:
Yet if this Host hath such a carefull minde,
As that he will, for each mans stomacke, finde
A seu [...]rall meat; and so provide with care,
Good hous-roome, hearty welcom, & good fare:
Shall we condemne his liberall act and loue,
If thanklesse invitants the same disproue?
Some (peraduenture) doth one dish there see,
Which with his nature doth not well agree:
Some other may perchance dislike the feast,
Because it is not all what he likes best.
And so with diuers censures they do take
Due praise frō him who did the bāquet make:
[Page]Which may discourage him that doth intend
Such careful cost another time to spend.
Yet (worthy Author) let not this dismay
Thee, to goe forward in that vertuous way
Thou hast propounded; nor let that be lost
Which is so rare. Thou art a noble Host,
And 'cause thou knowest not the minds of those
That shall receiue thy feast, thou dost dispose
Of things so fitly, that all here may finde
Diuers provisions for each readers minde.
What if perchance some surfet at thy feast,
Because they cannot easily disgest
Some vicious quality, which reignes so rife
In vicious minds (made known by their lewd
So rife; as you the dāger haue exprest, (life)
That knowing it, they might the vice detest?
Pitty their weaknes then, seeing thou dost tel
Nothing to poyson humor, but expell.
What if some others will thy feast abuse,
Because it is of seu'rall kindes? refuse
The founders dignitie, because ti [...] knowne
Mens tastes and palates onely be their owne?
Thou mad'st it not for onely one mans sake,
But all the worlds, if all of it partake.
[Page]Take resolution therefore to thy mind;
Adde wings vnto thy fainting courage; bind
All thy due strength together; to provide
So rare a Banquet; which may long abide
To all mens profit, and the founders praise.
He therefore doth invite the guests that sayes
This is a Noble Feast; and wisheth this,
That he, which of this feast doth iudge amisse
May (if he wants what is in this combin'd)
Seeke to atchieue the same, but never finde,
ANTHO. CROFTES.

SATYRICALL ESSAYES, CHARA­CTERS AND OTHERS.

Three Satyricall Essayes of Cowardlinesse.

ESSAY. I.

FEare to resist good vertues common foe,
And seare to loose some lucre, which doth grow
By a continued practise; makes our fate
Banish (with single combates) all the hate,
Which broad abuses challenge of our spleene.
For who in Vertues troope was euer seene,
That did couragiously with mischiefes fight
Without the publicke name of hipocrite?
[Page 2]Vaine-glorious, Malapert, Precise, Deuout,
Be tearmes which threaten those that go about
To stand in opposition of our times
With true defiance, or Satyrickeri [...]es.
Cowards they be, branded among the worst,
Who (through contempt of Atheisme) neuer durst
Crowd neere a great-Mans elbow, to suggest
Smooth tales with glosse, or Enuy well addrest.
These be the noted cowards of our age;
Who be not able to instruct the Stage
With matter of new shamelesse impudence:
Who cannot almost laugh at innocence;
And purchase high preferment by the waies,
Which had bene horrible in Nero's dayes.
They are the shamefull cowards, who contemne
Vices of State, or cannot [...]l [...]tter them;
Who can refuse aduantage; or deny
Villanous courses, if they can esp [...]e
Some little purchase to inrich their ch [...]st,
Though they become vncomfortably blest.
Wee still account those Cowards, who forbeare
(Being possess'd with a Religious feare)
To slip occasion, when they might erect
Hornes on a Trades-mans noddle, or neglect
[Page 3]The violation of a Virgins bed
With promise to require her Maiden-head.
Basely low-minded we esteeme that man,
Who cannot swagger well, or (if he can)
Who doth not with implacable desire,
Follow reuenge with a consuming fire.
Extortious Rascals, when they are alone,
Bethinke how closely they haue pick'd each bone;
Nay with a frolicke humour they will brag,
How blancke they left their empty Clients bag.
Which dealings if they did not giue delight;
Or not refresh their meetings; in despight
They would accounted be both weake, vnwise,
And like a timorous coward too precise.
Your handsome-bodied youth (whose comely face
May challenge all the store of Natures grace)
If, when a lustfull Lady doth inuite,
By some lasciuious tricke [...] his deere delight,
If then he doth abhorre such wanton ioy;
Whose is not almost ready to destroy,
Ciuility with curses, when he heares
The tale recited? blaming much his yeares,
Or modest weaknesse, and with cheeks ful-blown
Each man will wish the case had beene his own.
[Page 4]Graue holy men, whose habite will imply
Nothing but honest zeale, or sanctity,
Nay so vprighteous will their actions seeme,
As you their thoughts Religion will esteeme.
Yet these all-sacred men, who daily giue
Such vowes, wold think themselues vnfit to liue,
If they were Artlesse in the flattering vice,
Euen as it were a daily sacrifice:
Children deceiue their parents with expence:
Charity layes aside her conscience,
And lookes vpon the fraile commodity
Of monstrous bargaines with a couetous eye:
And now the name of Generosity,
Of noble cariage, or braue dignity;
Keepe such a common [...]kirmish in our bloud;
As we direct the measure of Things good,
By that, which reputation of Estate,
Glory of rumor, or the present rate
Of Sauing Pollicy doth best admit.
We do employ materials of wit,
Knowledge, occasion, labour, dignity,
Among our spirits of Audacity,
Nor in our gainefull proiects do we care
For what is pious, but for what we dare:
[Page 5] Good humble men, who haue sincerely layd
Saluation for their hope, we call Afraid.
But if you will vouchsafe a patient eare,
You shall perceiue, men impious haue most feare.

ESSAY. II.

MAny aspiring fellowes you may see,
Who, after they and fortune doe agree,
Come (by briefe windings) to be men elect;
Through priuate means, heauen knows how indirect.
To flourish quickly and aduance their head,
As if they tooke possessions from the dead:
When all the Heralds neuer could deuise,
From whence the fathers kindred might arise.
Though many cal them Nephew, Brothers son
(Because a thriftie garment they haue spun)
Who (else) with publick shame had bin disgrac'd,
And all the titles of their loue defac'd:
But now they flourish, and with Worship swell,
Whose poore beginnings euery Groome can tell.
As if a new-found Whittingtons rare Cat
Came to extoll their birth-rights aboue that
[Page 7]Which nature once intended: These be men
Who thinke not of a Hundred yeelding Ten:
They turne base copper into perfect gold:
Counterfeit couzning wa [...]es bewis [...]ly sold.
Men be perswaded well of prosperous fate,
Giuing much credite to a crasty pa [...]e,
But if these cowards durst discouer all,
Both how they did their high estates install,
How they began to make a league with hell,
Or how they did in damned plots excell,
Their very liues alone, if they were dead,
Would make an other work for Hollingshead.
Alas they dare not; these be cowards right,
For whose abortiue d [...]eas the blackest night
Is neuer black enough, nor can conceale
Their shame, which lewd posterities reueale.
Fine hansome outsides who so highly stand
On the reputed courage of their hand:
Who keepe their pages with such spacious gard
(Scorning to play without a coated-card)
Who keepe a large Retinue, or erect
Buildings; in which they neuer can expect
To dwell, with credit of their famish'd slocke;
Or to maintaine the vse of one good lock.
[Page 8]These notwithstanding to augment their glosse,
And turne some braue expences into drosse,
Will be the seruile debtors to a slaue,
(Who hath no remedie, but to depraue
Their fortunes with inuectiue impudence,
Or make petitions to defray expence)
And yet these mighty Vpstarts cannot dare,
To pay a single crosse: Except they spare
Their pompe; which giues a lustre in the Court,
And in the Citty makes aboundant sport.
Spend-thrifts, & Gallants likewise (who haue lands
Which beare all Saffron for their yellow bands)
Those which haue onely complement, and whoope
In Tauernes; may attend the former troope.
Those that dare challenge any man of armes,
And seeme to bear [...] about them valtant charmes;
Belching vnciuill Enuy, in the face
Of him that meekely contradicts their grace;
As if they carryed vengeance in their iawes,
Or executions of the Statute-law [...]s.
Those men if stricktly challeng'd, quake with feare,
Contriuing basely how they may forbeare:
And (leauing then a while their pompous pride)
They best bethinke, how they may closely hide
[Page 9]Their contumacious heads with priuiledge:
For when the flat-cap tradesman doth alle age
Forfeit of payments (and because at length
His wife, & so the world, doth know his strength)
When he procures a Champion to demand
The noble answere of his debtors hand:
And dares my valiant Swaggerer to meet,
His lawfull chalenge in the open street;
He, rather then he will prouoke the strife,
Sues by petition to my plaintifes wise:
Who, if she doth not very much forget,
Takes downe the quarrell, and so pa [...]es the debt.
Another sort of Cowards you may see,
(Transcending these in a more base degree)
Who to preserue aduancement, or vphold
Their Families, (without expence of gold)
Will, in promiscuous manner, congregate
Amongst good men, who blockish Papisme hate;
Nay, they will be attentiue in the Church,
(All to auoyd the law, and penall lurch)
They will con-niue at holy arguments,
And often beare a sway in Parliaments:
They will agree to constituted lawes,
Which almost ruine to their kingdome drawes,
[Page 10](All notwithstanding) they directly dare
Hope to be sau'd, as other Papists are;
Expecting on some opportunitie,
When they may make a traitrous vnitie:
For all the truth which can excuse their fate,
Is, that they finely can equiuocate:
A Cowards doctrine, full of shamelesse feare,
Infuses ioy to their misguided eare,
And yet no equall iustice them controules,
Because they haue a Curtaine to their soules;
Corrupted Officers, the common curse
Of publicke Law, who stuffe their gaping purse
With wrongfull fees, and grow extreamely fat
By their delitious trickes, or lying squat
Vp to the cares in pleasant Alchymie,
If these men durst bewray their infamie,
And bring their holiest actions into light,
The day would runne to a prodigious night.
N [...]w fees created are, and then the match
M [...]st something take to frame a briefe dispatch:
I [...]formers be preuented by a feate,
Which q [...]alifies indeed their boysterous heate,
Although vniustly: Clearkes and other knaues
(Who w th their generous ruffs the court outbraues)
[Page 11]Will take a pention, or a quarter fee,
To make their friend from information free;
And (to preuent the mischiefe) will declare
How other billes already do not spare
To certifie the Court a day before
Of that, for which the plaintiffe doth implore:
So false and fained reuolutions cracke
The craftie meanings that pre-caution lacke:
Yet still they gape, and say they cannot saue
The many pounds which th [...]y so freely gaue
To purchase ten times more for they intend
Onely on priuate meanings to depend.
Before I speake, let no good Law [...]e [...] bl [...]me
My loue to him, though I bad vices name.
Another sort of Law-professors come
Within this Catalogue to craue a roome:
They who depend vpon a Iudges looke
More then the poynts of Littleton, or Brooke,
They who procure a great mans happy smile,
By Coaches, Colts, and other courses vile:
Who keepe one speciall Court, and blind-sold wise
Tread (Mill-horse like) the circuit of Assise:
They who be fitter to maintaine the sport,
Of Christmasse reuels at an Inne of Court:
[Page 12]Fitter to feed delitious Ladies eares,
Or flattringly remoue their patrons feares:
Fitter to follow the forgotten trades,
Or make a reading of the knaue of Spades:
To make a libell, or neate ruffes allow;
And sometimes very fit to driue the Plow.
Fitter then to exceed the true degrees
Of merites, and conuert meere voice to fees.
These men (it makes me laugh) they still contend
To choose a long-liu'd patron for their friend;
But if his destin'd length becomes too short
To make the time of long vacations sport,
Then all my fauourites be vanish't farre,
And almost tremble to approach the barre.
Then they perceiue, Life (vpon which they gnaw)
Is more vncertaine then their common law:
They trauaile home againe by weeping crosse,
And bring the law much credit with their losse.
But if they dare, vntouch'd, remaine still free,
Another Patron dares corrupted be:
Else like egregious Cowards, they withdraw,
Hiding themselues, and the abuse of Law.
I see a Lawyer, who hath spent his time
At Innes of Court in some excessiue crime;
[Page 13]But being once aduanc'd to view the barre,
He brings all bird-lime, and polluting tarre,
With which he so defiles the Laws pure Sence,
That each man will account it impudence.
If a good simple Client entertaines
This Mercenary Varlet, and explaines,
How he hath purchas'd a conuenient field,
Lordship, or Mannor, which may easly yeeld
A large reuenue, that affoords full cost,
Whereby he saues himselfe, and nothing's lost:
The greedy Lawyer doth begin to pray
He will repriue his answere till a day;
Intending he perceiues poynts difficult,
Through which the crafty seller may insult.
Meanetime he visites some old broking knaue,
And (with a sight of Angels) ties the slaue,
Through nice propounded Articles to swimme,
And get his Clients bargaine euen for him.
Then will he basely flatter, and pretend
The seller was my worshipfull deere friend,
Who recollecting how commodious
The bargaine was for me (so couetous)
Did kindly offer me the peny-worth
In which (before) I wanted putting forth.
[Page 14]Vngratious were it to impute disease
To any men of knowledge, or to these,
With a pernicious meaning to contemne
The most respectfull honest Law, or them:
When therefore I the name of Lawyer vse,
Or (any way) the title do accuse,
Imagine, I, as doe the vulgar clownes,
Call those men Lawyers, who haue Lawyers gownes:
Reseruing to my selfe a purer sence,
Which saith a Lawyer is all innocence;
A Lawyer truly taken; which implies
One who doth Art and Reason exercise,
Both which, and Equitie do him sustaine;
Who truly doth the name of Lawyer gaine.
That waking sighted Run-away, the Hare,
(Which is pres [...]ru'd by a continuall feare)
Cannot (by this) protect her innocence,
So much as Officers their lewd pretence:
The Fox an ancient Hierogliphicke was,
In Fri [...]rs robes to shew the common passe
Of smooth hypocrisie, and Church-mens craft;
But now a formall gowne may serue to waft
This badge among our prowling Officers,
Which Name and Habite rightuously inferres
[Page 15]As much compacted villanie, as meetes
Among the Stewards of rich Countrey Leetes:
Both Couzen with as great conformitie,
As if they held some new fraternitie:
Both be so practis'd in good Vertues scorne,
As if Atturnies had directly sworne
To match the Officer, and powle the flecee,
As if they both consisted of one peece.
They both insinuate their sweating paines,
Their common paiment: each (alike) constraines
The hunger-bitten Client to disburse,
Till they haue left his hopes euen with his purse.
Yet will you dare to say those men exact?
No; that were brainlesse: they so well compact
Their polliticke inuentions, that the fault
Of asking more then due, creepes to the vault
Of Clerkes dull ignorance to purchase leaue,
When their discouered proiect [...] d [...] deceiue
A Substitute in Courts may rather take
All wrested fees, that glosse may thereby make
The Steward seeme lesse culpable in vice,
When Substitutes are taught by his aduice:
And if some one their cousenage doth betray,
The Substitute can easily slinke away.
[Page 16]My baudy Proctor likewise, who presumes
To purge mens purses▪ for vene [...]eall Rhumes;
Who th [...]atens pena [...]ce in agh [...]stly sh [...]ete,
If Clie [...]ts (though they s [...]rip from head to feete)
Be sla [...]k [...] in paiment of extortious coine:
This man who studies first how to purloine,
Before he lookes vpon the ciuill Law;
This man, who hath a prompt and ready paw,
Who loues no Innes of Court, shutting his crackes
And all his rage, vnder a nose of wax;
Who, when a fornicato [...] lookes awry,
That he the least aduantage may espy,
He will [...]ff [...]iously attend the Court,
Because he [...]els out the ensuing sport,
And when a grieuous fi [...]e afflicts the purse
Of [...]shly sinners, to esc [...]pe the curse,
He and the thriftie Iudge can closely share
The foul [...] taxation, which with pious c [...]re
Is well intended to correct the sinne,
Establish bridges which decay within,
Reli [...]ue sicke persons, or amend high-wayes,
Or some religious Chappell, which decayes.
But they haue other vses to respect,
To buy their ciu [...]ll garments, or affect
[Page 17]The wanton lust of some egregious whoore,
To winne new credit, to deceiue the poore;
And so deceiue the vnsuspectfull time,
For (else) he durst not so insatiate clime
Into the fiery region; neither dares
His habite seeme acquainted with these cares.
Now must I summon Parish-hypocrites,
Who seeme attentiue to coelestiall rites,
Who thinke the Art of him that well doth liue,
Is all perform'd, if he example giue,
Which may become the parish: if he pray
Aloud in Chambers, or deuoutly pay
The tribute of true dealing vnto all
Who (can to their ass [...]stance) Iustice call.
If in Assemblies he can shew good workes,
And call offendors, Infidels or Turkes:
He thinkes he hath discharg'd the finall part
Of a religious or honest heart:
Though he doth closely keepe a vertuous punke,
Or though (on cautious t [...]arms) he [...] can be drunk:
Though in another County, and the name
Of other Agents he can schedules fram [...];
And thinkes himselfe to be a man well blest,
Though he receiues the Sinfull Interest:
[Page 18]For this eye-seruing-age is quickly gone
To all deceit if we lacke lookers on.
These be most valiant Cowards, men that dare
Be boldly impious, and y [...]t basely feare,
Least common rumour should obserue or thinke
They be not still awake, though still they winke.
Some false Physitians lye within the reach
Of these, who true sinceritie impeach,
Their glasses, glisters, oyles, ingredients
(Which hope of lucre oftentimes inuents)
Do carry all (as if a cowards soule
Kept in their bosomes) to the dead mans rowle;
Hiding their fearefull practice in the graues:
Leane death, their operation still out-braues.
Sometimes their crabbed Enuy doth inuent,
Sometimes they kil with new experiment:
For still they er [...]e by custome, or by chance,
Ei [...]her by malice, or by ignorance:
And (hauing spent prescriptions to each dram)
He thinkes alas sure I protected am,
If now I see our physicke does no good,
Or seeing I haue suckt his purse and blood,
If I can tell his friends there is no hope,
Or that he must expect deaths fatall scope:
[Page 19]Then shall I be discharg'd with credits fee,
And to condemne more liues, remaine still free.
They shift their compasse to auoyd our scorne,
Hiding their actions from the faire-fac'd morne.
Now my censorious Criticks who disgrace
Each worke they know not, with a scuruy face,
Who banish Authors to Barbarian lands,
And sling true solid matter from their hands,
With a disdainfull Motto of Nonsence:
Although themselues (excepting impudence)
Haue nothing to excuse their vanitie:
Latinle [...]se Lawlesse Rogues, they often be,
Who hauing past their verdict, will recant:
For their maintaining facultie is scant.
Or if these Apish Cowards dare defend,
The vice of Iudgment, brings them to their end.
And yet some Writers doe deserue the name
Of Cowards likewise: they be growne so tame
With being often handled, often praisd,
As they forget their motion, being raisd
Aboue the highest spheares: they thinke it much,
More then indeed enough, to haue beene such
As they were once accounted: though they sleepe,
Follow their ease, and sluggish silence keepe:
[Page 20]Nay thogh they wake, & (which doth po [...]son thē)
F [...]llow the errors which they did condemne.
Some worthlesse Poets also, haue the vice
To write their labours as they cast at di [...]e:
If (by aduenture) some strange happy chance,
Smiles on their borrowed workes of ignorance,
They can bewray their the [...]uish names, and giue
Notice to all, how they eterni [...]'d liue.
But if (presuming on their sickly strength)
They write, and do betray their selues at length:
Then, oh they came into the publicke presse
Against their wils; they dare not then con [...]esse
Who wrongs the world with such base Poetry:
Nay, their owne eldest sonnes they will deny.
All hide their vices. Printers also hide
Errors escap'd, w [...]ich makes wise men deride
Excellent wits, deseruing worthy praise,
Whē (through distinctions lest) the truth decaies:
But among all base writers of the time,
I cannot reckon vp more desperate rime,
(Which trauailes with a feare so damnable)
As Libell-lashing measures: they excell
Onely in this; that these be counted best,
Which the soole-Author dares acknowledge least.
[Page 21]These are contemptible enough, and yet
Their lines maske vnder a fictitious wit,
When wit (as hitherto) was neuer seene
Truly ingendred by a tr [...]uiall spleene.
Nor can they thus reforme what is impure,
Seing men so touch'd, conceiue thēselues past cure.
Wel do these cowards thriue, when hauing blown
Shame to the peoples Eares, they loose their own.
Briefly, it were a thing preposterous,
If rich men, who are nicely co [...]etous,
Shold not be trembling cowards; when they think
Vpon the ioyfull paines of death, they stinke.
Nothing prouokes me sooner to confesse
That Atheisme is their chiefest happinesse,
Then to consider how the very best
Struggle with death, declining to their rest:
One pluckes away the haires which should reueale
His righteous thoughts: another doth conceale
The furrowed wrinkles of his tawny skinne:
Another scoures his stumpes, or doth beginne
To breake the glasse with foolish extasie,
At the reflexe of Chap-f [...]lne grauitie.
Can these, with safetie of a quiet minde
Puffe vp themselues with an ambitious winde
[Page 22]Of Riches, Rumor, Lucre, and Expence,
Whiles Kings and good men haue no difference?
They haue Abundance, I haue some alone,
They feed a hundred bellies, I feed one.
Both vanish to Obliuions caue, vnlesse
Our very thoughts a liuing soule expresse:
Which being once admitted, no soules can
Keepe their worst secrets from the face of Man.

ESSAY. III.

NO more: no more: now saith my honest friend,
Be politicke; or study to commend
The time, and timelings, least you doe bestow
More copious tearmes then licence dare allow.
Content thy selfe (Cordatus) I will blame
No reuerend Church-man, neither will I name
One lewd professor, who pollutes the grace
Of such a formall and respected place:
I will not name their liuings, nor their liues,
Much [...]esse their bondage to their hansom wiues:
As if they durst not shew the times disease,
Because indeed they dare not them displease.
I will not wrong their holinesse: and why?
In holinesse true zeale you may descry.
Nor will I taxe Church-vices, least I wrong
The labour which to writing doth belong.
For when I haue againe repeated all
Their vices publicke, and sinnes personall:
I shall but reckon the antiquities,
Of Glosse, of Ignorance, and Simonies:
[Page 24]And so repeate things mention'd long before,
Nay things prefixt vpon each Play-house doore.
Let them (alasse) continue, or increase,
O let them long enioy a qui [...]t peace;
For they already know the mischiefes well,
They almost scorne such inwards to expell.
And why? they feare taxation: ò strange fate!
They who contemne reproofes, are desperate.
We cannot hope such persons will amend,
Who may (without controule) their vice extend.
Enough, enough, I haue bethought so much
Concerning cowards, that my selfe am such:
I dare not speake my meaning vnder paine
Of being crost, of being curb'd againe.
Why crost? why curb'd? go aske authoritie
Why it protects peculiar vanitie?
And it perhaps will answere in de [...]ence;
C [...]owes to themselues beperfect Innocence.
Or (which is more familiar) Enuy loues
That humor best, which bitterly reproues
All states, all faculties besides her owne:
She fauours that, and feares it should be knowne,
Though it be noted; or with publicke shame,
Hath purchasd ( [...] you write) an odious name.
[Page 25]Men thinke their fashions and their faces best
If (in a flattred humor) they be blest,
To heare men discommend both such and such,
Not naming theirs; although they be so much
Apparant filthy, as no vulgar eye
Would make a question of deformity:
And so superior vices doe propound
A freedome to their scope, as being sound
In selfe-conceite, if they can saue their skinne
From being Printed with a publicke s [...]nne;
Though (setting bookes aside) they do [...]rofesse,
Enough to poyson all their names no l [...]sse.
See how I breath into the spacious Aire,
A Theame as spacious: Can my V [...]rse repaire
The fruitlesse errors of men obstinate;
Who cannot freely their owne vices hate?
Who rather gainefull vices do cond [...]mne,
Because they cannot purchase gaines by them?
For in their owne offences they reserue
Such cautions as may closely them preserue.
Well, sir, admit men labour to be wise,
And for themselues do secrets exercise,
Who shall dare contradict such worthy paines
Which fosters credit, and ill termes restraines?
[Page 26]Avant base Hipocrite, go henceforth set
Vpon thy pillow, thy close cabinet,
And sleepe with all the papers in thy hand,
Which thy most secret counsels may command;
Or I with Spaniards better shall agree;
Or I shall trust a Lapwing more then thee.
Good men dare iustifye, euen touching all
The essence of their thoughts originall:
Touching themselues, their meanings they may saue,
Least they their good successe of meanes depraue.
But well, suppose men so directly halt
As they do feare to patronize the fault,
Shall they not seeke vnpunish'd to remaine,
If actions pass'd cannot be cal'd againe?
We daily do transgresse; and some perhaps
Deserue the plagues of lashing after-claps:
But then, alas! what satisfaction can,
Written reproofes be for a vicious man?
You make professions vndergoe contempt,
And make the least offence so farre exempt
From ciuill vertue, and some new conceits,
That you enforce good fellowship to straights.
So: Haue you done (deere Motley?) yes almost;
But stay a little, and behold vncrost,
[Page 27]The reason, why we do so closely deale,
And why we couer vice: I can r [...]ueale,
To frustrate your inuentions which produce
Nothing halfe-worthy of a well-borne Muse,
But triuiall vanities, and deepe expence,
To tell mans weakenesse by experience:
You might with more applause bestow more pains
To grace the Mayors Triumphs, and the chaines
Which do attend his Lordship to the Hall:
You might expound things termed mysticall:
Or might in better phrase compose a song,
To shew his Highnes staid at Cambridge long;
And not in tearmes, as hasty as the truth,
Discouer haire-braine fallacies of youth:
You might, you might, Seuerus, and detest
To scourge close dealers who be safely blest:
For I can well resolue you are the cause,
Why men reserue (in acts) a priuate clause:
You, and your nice obseruance do restraine
Men, and their actions both, from being plaine:
And yet you call those Cowards, who beware
As if they were possess'd with childish feare.
Suruay thy selfe, quicke-sighted formalist,
And then discouer that abusiue mist,
[Page 28]With which men shelter any priuate sinne:
Charity alwaies doth at home beginne.
Now haue you ended? then, I answere all
By scorning to excuse or hide my fall
As thou dost vrge: if I transgresse my square,
I of Relapse, not of Reproofe beware:
And I beleeue thou likewise wilt amend,
If so thou do'st not labour to offend:
For that ind [...]ed betrayes mens dealing naught,
When they do study rather to be taught,
In subtle mischiefe of a newer mint,
Then to abiure deceits of ancient print:
For they hate couznage, once intitled Old,
Because the Title shewes it often told,
And so affoords no lucre; not because
It fauours Atheisme and corruption drawes.
Why do I taxe, why do I trouble men,
Or why with noted crimes defile my pen?
The most notorious cowards will betray
Themselues, and follies, though I turne away.
Yes (which is worth my laughter) they accuse
Their closest feares, euen while they do refuse
To let you vnderstand their subtile drifts,
They do discouer such auoiding shifts,
[Page 29]That you may thence collect some fearefull trick,
They study to appeare so pollitick.
As, Fellons brought before a Iustice, each
Hopes to bee sau'd, if others he impeach:
And as some Indians dealt, being al-amaz'd
To heare the Spanish guns and forces blaz'd;
They bought their safety through a fine deceit:
For knowing gold to be the Spanish baite,
They would protest, that fifty leagues beyond
Was common plenty of that yellow sand;
Meaning to turne the fooles another way.
And so deale vicious persons: they betray
Anothers folly, to preserue their owne:
Obserue, and you shall gather things wel known.
Go tell a Church man he hath lost his voyce,
Or aske him why he doth in strife reioyce:
And he will answer; Lawyers do not speake
So much to purpose, as the Pulpits creake,
Althogh they do receiue fees doubled twice;
Which far exceed my single Benefice.
Go tell a Lawyer he relyes on chance,
Because he doth affect dull ignorance:
And he the worst obiection soone auerts
By telling how The times neglect deserts.
[Page 30]Go tell a Magistrate of morning bribes,
And he, to shallow meanes, the same ascribes:
But then demand of Honour why she failes,
In giuing that which euery way auailes
To nourish her beloued sonnes? And shee
Will answere, They profuse, insatiate be.
Aske shifting Russians why they do forget,
To hasten payment and discharge their debt,
Or why they do sufficient men dislike?
And they will answere, Great-ones do the like.
Go tell a Gamester he hath cheated long,
Or vnto many offred shamefull wrong,
And he will answere, that himselfe before
Was often cheated twenty times and more.
Go aske a Drunkard why he followes wine,
Abuses God, or giues a Heathen signe;
And he will quickly answere thy demand,
The Parson was so drunk he could not stand.
Go tell a Hot-spurre he hath kil'd a man,
Go aske him how he doth the terrour scan:
And he will answere; a Physitian's free
To murther twenty millions; why not hee?
Go tell a fawning wretch he doth relye
Vpon the slauish vice of flattery:
[Page 31]And he will answere, That the best are glad
To follow such indeuours, or as bad.
Go tell a whore she doth her sexe pollute,
By being such a common prostitute:
And shee will answere in defence of fame,
Citizens wiues, and Ladies do the same.
Go tell a trades-man he deceiues the day,
Refusing light, deluding euery way:
And he will answere to auoyd thy curse,
Go further on, you will be cheated worse.
Thus cowards all (not daring to defend
The diuers follies which they dare intend)
Confesse themselues, and others do elect
Vices, which none but Diuels dare protect.
When I pronounce a Coward, it implies,
Malice and spight be Cowards qualities:
They are inseparate, and why? because
A vicious Coward so exactly knowes
Himselfe vnable, that he doth decree
To haue consorts as impotent as h [...]e;
Because he may auoyd the mighty shocke
Of mens contempt, rank'd with a greater flocke;
Whereas perhaps if he were lest alone,
His basenesse onely would be look'd vpon.
[Page 32]But harke you sir (saith one) you haue forgot
To brand our female; with a cowards lot.
They be a proper subiect: do not spare
Them and their couert dealing to declare:
They be attired with inuentiue doubts,
And haue as many feares as they haue thoughts:
They labour daily, yet they do suspect,
They cannot halfe a hansome face erect:
They paint, they pow [...]er, they with toies exced,
Alas! they dare not shew themselues indeed.
Night they do honour: then they do obtaine
That which perhaps the day cals backe againe:
They do intice their Husbands to beleeue
Any thing (then) and any thing to giue:
They do entreate, when Husbands scarce replye
But with a purpose nothing to deny:
They not without adu [...]n [...]age do contend;
Nor any cowards oddes do discommend.
Well, [...]: admit they do abound with feare,
Females for nothing else created were.
They need not of t [...]eir weakenesse be asham'd;
But Men should blush to heare the folly namd.
You do discouer mens impediments,
And tell vs what the crasty age inuents.
[Page 8]As if authority forgat his whip:
You may be silent, and surcease to nip.
Let sage Authority proceed by course
Of Law, to punish these without remorse.
Then you must bid Authority respect
Things not accounted euill; or neglect
To punish friend-lesse fee-lesse infamies,
And taxe braue mischiefe with seuerer eyes.
Nay that will neuer be; for tell the base,
And poore offendor (who feeles no disgrace)
He hath offended; and he dares reply,
He tooke his patterne from Authority.
So shifting be the simple Idiots,
So shifting base be higher Patriots:
And must be euer till they do reueale
Feare to commit, not study to conceale.

Of High Birth. ESSAY. IIII.

THINGS curiously made, differ as much from things begot­ten, as earth from liuing men, and ar­tificiall bodies from mans issue. Children therefore may chal­lenge from their parents more prerogatiue, then workmanship or mans Inuention; for it partici­pates with vs in being onely, but they in being ours: for things be­gottē be originally our own, but things created be ours at the se­cond hand continually: else man were two waies excellent, [Page 36] and able to create, as well as to beget, without patterne or example, whereas truely in matters of Science and manu­all labour, man, without the helpe of man, doth nothing. So ignorant hee is, and chiefe­ly bound vnto imitation, as hee neuer did, nor will, pro­duce that, which depends not on some president: onely our Issue is our owne absolute; for man, secluded from the com­pany of men, is by the helpe of Nature fit (of himselfe) for infinite generation, though nothing else: Which argues the full necessity of being so­ciable, and mightily con­demnes those currish people, who thinke it all-sufficient, if they can once assume the pride, to say, they are not any way indebted; or that they bee [Page 73] their owne Supporters: And thinke it the safest friendship to forget Humanity, neglect Acquaintance, make loue an outward Ceremony, nay scarce so much: and neuer bee offended with a curse so much, as when they must haue mans assistance to restore them.

These are vnmindefull why man doth multiply, Why lawfull Marriage was inuen­ted: Or why GOD, thin­king it not enough to worke a Vnion with HVMANITY by the bond of NATVRE, did also extend affinitie to those of an other stocke; that IN­CEST might be vnacted; and by the consequent, that MAN should not engrosse onely the loue of his owne FAMI­LIE. [Page 38] Man therefore thus enabled to produce; it followes by impli­cation that amongst posterity some one must haue prece­dence; in which, sonnes (by con­sent) haue that Immunity of El­dest: And Hee, according to vsu­all speech, is called the Heire Apparant: which is a name so largely taken, as (with it) wee imply any one able to inherit, though not the eldest. But pro­perly it extends to the First Be­gotten, who (in being first) sup­plies the office of a Substitute to discharge that which incum­bers the parent; the office of a valiant warriour likewise, who couets by being first, to take the first charge, giue the first assault, and (aboue all) to bee according to his name, truely forward in the high Atchieue­ments of honour: so forward, [Page 39] as for any of his Ranke to bee before, should bee thought a miserable basenesse. It is an ob­serued point of Nature (a­mong the Ancients) that Ele­phants, Pliny. A [...]l [...]anus. Philo [...]tr [...]. when they trauaile by Troupes, knowing by a pecu­liar instinct that their aduersa­ries (for the most part) incoun­ter them in the Rereward, they marshall themselues that the eldest may bee first ready to su­staine the violence; which giues a memorable precept to mans issue, that hee (if eldest) ought rather to protect, then cauill with his inferiour relatiues; that they (because yongest) ought rather to submit, where his good counsell may assist, then be malignant or maintaine Faction.

This Theater of mans life, admits degrees of height, in [Page 40] which the eldest is aboue the o­thers; and therefore as the Centinell, or Scout (in Ar­mies) is vigilant to foresee ad­uantage, and so preserue by diligence when courage of the rest is little worth: So should superiours in birth bee as much prouident for the safety of those, in respect of whom they be superior, as to esteeme their birth-right a blessing.

It is therefore no safe conclusi­on, to say hee is the eldest, and so most excellent; but hee is the eldest, and therefore should bee most excellent: For in pro­duction of the soule it fares o­therwise with a man, then with vnreasonable creatures; among which there needes no better warrant to signifie courage, then the first breede, which signifies the strength of Na­ture [Page 41] in the Parents or Breeders. But with Man, (who commu­nicates with Beasts onely in forme) it is onely sufficient for him to challenge in his Issue what himselfe bestowes: As for the Diuine Mate­rials of Reason, if sometimes they doe hereditarily suc­ceede to the sonne of a pru­dent father, wee may from hence conclude, that GOD more often dispenses with it, to make man see the true ORIGINALL, rather then Flesh should chal­lenge any part; or Fathers thinke they bee the sole effi­cients. For it is now made a common argument of the SONNES folly, if the FATHER bee more then commonly wise. And I am ve­ry much perswaded, that [Page 42] this (if nothing else) may assure the Polititian of some supreame disposer, who giues warning to his presumptuous folly through the plague of a foolish heire; Nihil dat quod non babet, ergo non babet: nam Si babuisset daret. His polli­cies are not his owne: for he would then im­part them haeredita­rily to his Issue. that hee may ouer-value him­selfe at his owne perill: seeing he hath often his owne worke­manship before his eyes, to ar­gue against him, and his arro­gant conceit. Bee it sufficient therefore that cunning Natur [...], which principally and common­ly works out each naturall mans existence by causes well known, Matter, Forme, and Priuation, is not able in things essentiall, to distribute any particle without Diuine prouidence: so the el­dest naturally inherites nothing as by peculiar claime, but sense­lesse lineaments of body. How­soeuer, most conuenient it is, that euery one by birth enno­bled, [Page 43] either by single prioritie, or prioritie vnited to noble pa­rentage, should seeke to accom­plish the part of nature vndone in more then complement, ci­uill silence, or common passa­ges; and make the birth absolute. For Man, a sluggish Creature, (prompt enough to decline af­ter satietie) seemes naturally to be vnfurnished, that hee might not be vnoccupied. So Nature hath left much imperfect, to in­timate by the vacant absence of some things needfull, that mans labour should make things vse­full. Nature affoords timber, but workmanship the structure: the earth produces Ore, but Art the Siluer: Nature giues plants, Knowledge the vse: A­mong all which shee doth re­quire a more ample and lesse supplement, according to the [Page 44] value, raritie or estimation of the thing. For Chymicks know, the more pretious mettals aske more paines in extraction of the true quintessence, then baser Minerals: Gold is the seuenth time purified, and then becomes beautifull: besides the qualitie of things more pretious, ought still to bee equiualent with their pretious subiect. Couragious horses bee managed with curio­sitie: delicate voyces bee sele­cted to learne harmonies, whilst harsh and strong voyc'd cryers bee ridiculous. Diamonds, not glasse, become pure mettall, and rich garments haue much cost­ly appearance. High blouds likewise be the fittest receptacles for high actions; but if a sacke­cloth bee embroydred, the ad­iunct may deserue honor, thogh the ground-worke be Plebeian: [Page 45] and men of vp-start Parentage may, in respect of braine, take place before Nobilitie, though their persons bee odious. Our selues and parents, or in­structors, be the secondary cau­ses which protract or abbreui­ate, enrich or impouerish, our owne destinies. For either wee are driven with fatall obstinacie, to ouer-take fortune; else, by the negligence of education, or being not season'd in minority, our stupid dulnesse giues For­tune leaue to ouer-take vs. High birth is so farre from priuiledge to exempt any from these, as it approches neere to miserie, when shame is vnpreuented; and makes destinie notori­ous.

I know no difference there­fore betwixt the degrees of Fortune, if Birth alone makes [Page 46] the comparison. For which is more predominant, if one of obscure fortune becomes pub­licke by merits, remaining still the same if he transgresse; or if one descended nobly, doth but deserue himselfe, and family, through great engagements, being ready to descend below himselfe if he miscarry, and be as publicke in disgrace, as vp­starts in applause? For this Age of Innouation is fitter to be­hold one swimming to a remote shore, then to reuolue how hap­pily the inhabitants be there de­lighted: fitter to see new acti­ons, & actiue spirits proceeding, then the maintenance of honour proceeded: and fitter to behold one falling from a rocke, then from a stumbling mole-hill. So that if Noble-men aduanced, continue so; and ambitious [Page 47] Gentry, nay or basenesse, do a­spire and thriue, I see no diffe­rence: if ruine threatens both, the last transcends in outward happinesse. The best similitude which makes diuersitie, reaches but thus farre: I see an embroy­dred emptie purse, and stoope to view it narrowly, because the out-side glisters: I spurne a powch before me, and heare the sound of siluer; I take both, keepe both, and will esteeme the coyne aboue the emptie purse, and yet preferre the outsides a­lone not both alike; because the one is capable and beauteous al­ready, the other doth containe already, but can neuer be beau­teous: no more then vpstarts, though renowned in merits, can euer take Nobilitie of Birth; because it will demand successi­on to confirme antiquitie. [Page 48] So that ennobled fortunes (be­ing an outward beauty) shall but make me more willing (as an embroidred purse) to see their in-sides, not enlarge their va­lue: when as perhaps one base­ly obscure, shall more purchase my reverence, though lesse at­tract my labour to discouer him. As for the chiefe ornaments which qualifie great parentage, they should bee such as make most in the aduancement of a Common-wealth. For when Lawes receiue their body from the concordance of Nobilitie; it must (by good coniecture) follow, that the life or motion of them (which is an equal prosecu­tion of Iustice) would, through the countenance of Nobilitie, receiue more credit and reue­rence. For the visible dignitie of persons, doth atract sluggish or [Page 49] obstinate beholders, with vnani­mitie or terror.

Thus ignorant men (vnac­quainted with our state of que­stion) will often wish within themselues, That a Dunce or Coward may preuaile before the Combate, because they in­cline more to the estimation of his carriage, fame, or fea­ture, then to the others: which loue doth (notwithstanding) sometimes vanish into feare, a­doration, or a reuerend conceit. The very name of Crumwell was able to disseuer insurrections; [...] so much was hee credited with an opinion of sincere gra­uitie. To bee a man likewise generally famous, doth of­tentimes dispense with come­linesse of personage, and pur­chaseth full applauded successe in euery dispatch vnder the [Page 50] pattent of hauing beene gene­rally commended, But if po­pular fame bee not gracious, the ornaments of body, com­linesse, and behauiour, must bee assistant to High birth, in publicke atchieuements of ho­nour, to make a prosperous beginning. For single birth, without additions, is no gene­rall to command an Armie, or to preuaile with multitudes: which (by the order of reason) should bee a Noble and gene­rous intention, because birth is sooner capable of respect on­ly then base agents.

By this caution therefore did the Noblest Romanes apply themselues to take the patro­nage of Plebeians; [...] accoun­ting it the most honourable entrance, to exercise their ef­ficacie of birth, by the prote­ction [Page 51] of poore Clients, or o­therwise illiterate Citizens: The frequencie of which cu­stome made Nobilitie fa­mous. It is the excellent signe of mans participation with Di­uinitie, to discerne and iudge of nature.

This therefore should bee the singular part of instructi­on among Noble pupils, and all that would become profi­cients, to certifie, allay, and augment nature: which can­not bee by a restraint, but by giving free libertie to enioy all, that so the worst may bee remoued; else by a This po­li [...]y [...]n [...]rap [...] [...] it [...]hew [...] and so in [...] easi­ly preuen­ted. colourable restraint of that which for­merly was permitted. For when wee say, Natura recurrit, wee must conceiue, Nature hath tasted: for Ignoti nulla cupi­do. And by the consequent, [Page 52] whilst wee dote vpon things absent, our inclination is disco­uered.

From hence therefore did Phrina know Praxitelus lo­ued the Image of his Satyre, because when hee heard his house was burnt, hee asked onely if the Satyre were safe: So when wee haue once en­ioyed, and now lacke our cu­stome, desire will bee mani­fest.

It is not therfore wisdome to correct the natures of children, by keeping them in couert from the worlds eye, vnlesse they bee appoynted for a Mo­nasterie. For that which wee cannot doe, because we know not, wee dare doe freely when wee are acquainted. But Na­ture beeing discouered, by ha­uing once enioyed, yeares will [Page 53] then easily admit a contrarie­tie. And as Wormewood, rubbed vpon the nipple of a Nurses Teate, weanes the childe; so thy detestation, or continuall inuectiue against that vice which thou wouldst abolish in the Childes na­ture, remooues it sooner then stripe, or furious choller to­wardes the Childe himselfe. For these bee able to make him, not abandon the vice, because hee abhorres thee; and in despight will keepe it, notwithstanding eye-seruice: whereas folly being hated for its owne sake, (because it is deformed) the expounder of this deformitie may bee still be­loued.

Vicious men may, without question, bee entertained by Princes, & giue much morality: [Page 54] prouided alwayes, that appre­hensiue natures be neere hand, to make applications. For then as the Apes heart (it selfe beeing a most timorous Creature) being well apply­ed, begetts courage in the pa­tient: So Cowards, Epicures, and blasphemous persons, may (by good compositions) produce Valiancie, Abstinence, and Humilitie in Princes: but poysons bee a dangerous phy­sicke, without skilfull profes­sors.

The study to discerne Na­ture in Noble persons, should bee equivalent to their owne disquisition of nature in others; for seeing they ought by su­perintendence to ouer-looke man, they should bee perfect in the Character of Man, bea­ring their best Librarie a­bout [Page 55] them.

They should represent the Lyon, who is noted (aboue all) to carry a most valiant head, and a Maiesticke coun­tenance; intimating the appa­rant and invisible potencie of high spirits.

Besides (that I may continue this Mythologie) the necke of a Lyon hath no ioyntes; whereby he cannot looke back­wards, vnlesse hee turnes his body; neither can Princes, without scandall to their cou­rage, and bountie, turne their head onely vpon the foe that makes pursuite, with a meaning to runne away faster, and not re­gaine their Title, or recall gifts with an intention to vpbrayd, except they turne themselues to encounter, or their iust rage to inflict a deserued ruine. The [Page 56] back of Lyons carries a magna­nimous bredth: And all the no­ble deeds of Ancestors, histori­call examples of Monarchs, with infinite renowned pre­cepts of former ages, make but one broad backe president, to strengthen the wisedome of Princes. The bones of a Ly­on haue lesse marrow then o­thers; for lasciuious suell dimi­nisheth valour. The want of pith therefore makes Oke more durable then Elda; and a con­tempt of wantonnesse prouokes Princes to an vnmoueable sub­sistence. Lyons haue an ex­quisite propertie to smell out their owne aduantage: For it is reported, the male knowes when the Lionesse hath beene adulterous with the Panther, by a peculiar sense of smelling: And the wisest part of men [Page 57] worthily descended, is to be­tray their owne abuses; for men of this ranck are incident to strong delusions. A Lyon sleepes and yet his eies are o­pen: so prouident high States­men, that possesse much, cannot haue eyes too many, or too watchfull: Neither may absolute man incurre security. When Lyons deuoure, fa­mine doth inforce them; And when Kings take the sword, a zealous appetite, to satisfie forgotten vertue, should pro­uoke them. Neither may ge­nerous Natures bee nobly offended, except, as by an im­pulsiue, or sufficient cause, they ouercome. So by a Heroyicke scorne to malice, they can both swallow and digest the cause with the conquest.

Howsoeuer it may bee [Page 58] fictitiously reported, that Lyons haue (by a miraculous motion) beene defensiue to condemned Martyrs; yet may the obseruati­on affoord thus much morality: That, as a true noble man may by no meanes receiue a more excellent moderation of spirit, and spur, to greatly-good acti­ons, then by a religious Feare; so cannot this bee any way ex­pressed better (himselfe being so eminent) then in perfection of Diuine Iustice, and good mens causes. It is admirable (if true) to see how generously Lyons haue scorned to be base debtors: Insomuch that it is memorably reported, Androcles a vagabond captiue, cured a Lyons paw; In gratification whereof, Gellius. the Lyon afterwards (when Androcles was among the Romane spectacles to bee deuoured) spares, and [Page 59] protects him against a rampant Pardall: Which carryeth a dou­ble precept for generous na­tures': First, a preseruatiue against ingratitude, where fol­lowers haue bene seruiceable; then a contempt to be a slauish debtor (if meanes can auoide it) especially to base-minded Trades-men; who vpon single debts inforce a double ingage­ment: Both of credite and resti­tution: for if you remaine in their bookes for a commodity, you must remaine likewise in their fauour to auoide scandall, reiterations, and commemora­tions among all societies.

Such is the common treache­rous basenesse of their conditi­ons, though they protest other­wise; which may exhort any No­ble minde to beleeue this Maxime True; Hee hath dischar­ged [Page 60] halfe his reputation among men, that scornes the credite of a Cittizen, or ind [...]ed any man. An other singular note is fixed vpon this magnanimous beast aboue written; his wrath extends no further then the prouocation. And therefore when the Arabian souldier, Gesar. charging a Lyon with his Speare, was disappointed of the obiect, and ouer-threw him­selfe with violence; the Lyon re­turned, & onely nipping his head a little (for his presumption) de­parted quietly. This being con­firmed with many famous exam­ples, I may infer thus much. If it may seeme conuenient or hono­rable for Nobility offended, to punish, not respecting penitent submission (which may without high offences seeme tyrannicall) yet if the punishment exceed the crime, wee may confidently ac­compt [Page 61] it bestial, & worse. Again it is notably remembred, that Ly­ons neuer run away, except they can priuately withdraw, (being ouercome with multitude) into a secure Mountaine, or wilder­nesse. And I obserue that it ill be­comes a braue resolution, to en­ter himselfe among proiects, from which he must necessa­rily recoile, except hee carries a cautelous eie, and true circum­spection. Lastly, I may conclude this moralized comparison, with Aesops controuersie betwixt a Lyonesse and the Fox: the Foxe commends her owne fruitfull generation, seeming to disgrace the Lyons single birth, to which this answer doth reioyne: I bring forth one, & yet that one is a Lyon: which good allusiō may remoue the curse which some would cast vpon Nobility, because often [Page 62] their children in number be in­feriour to common prostitutes: But I am peremptorily resolued, that the multiplicity of chil­dren reares vp an obscure fami­ly, and brings an ancient stocke to ruine: For among many base childrens blessings, birth may make variety of fortunes: But among much Noble posterity, Fortune doth challenge a more vaste partition; and makes a dis­contented heire fit for all inno­uating enterprises; so that one Noble remainder of much an­tiquity, or one true Lyon of a family (if Art and Nature can be made operatiue) will be a more safe prop to succession, then the doubtfull variety of children. I obserue it as an infa [...]lible rule, that there haue beene as many base originals, as their haue beene honorable descents in [Page 63] Nobility. For, as questionlesse the largest Riuers bee deriued from lowly Springs; So birth and succession haue beene so basely intermingled, so casually interrupted, so frequently im­paired, and very often attainted (though with absolution) that I may well iustifie the first princi­ple, and adde further, That gene­rally, to maintaine the noble estate of dead Ancestors, re­quires as much true policy, as to erect a new Family: And to ex­ceed the patterne of heroicke ancestry, deserues perpetuall commendations. Which pur­pose cannot prosper well, ex­cept we preuent or auoid oppo­sitions, rather then purchase new addition. For men may clime better by troublesome, rough, and dangerous passages, then stand tottering vpon the [Page 64] eminent spire: and therfore hath contentious dealing beene the ouer-throw of kingdomes, and flourishing Captaines; because prosperity is waspish, & brookes no competition, nor almost as­sistance. The Historian therfore saith well: None more deafe to counsell then natures vnthwar­ted; Plutarch. none more obtemperate to bee counselled, then men destitute. As for the ambitious extasie of no­ble spirits, which makes them indirectly consult vpon new ad­dition; the Fable doth con­demne them perspicuously: for like Aesops Dogge, they snatch at shadowes, and loose the cer­tainty, who dote vpon such co­uetous desires. Presumption al­so, and Popularitie, be two trea­cherous confederates: the first was neuer good when a Kings fauour is the obiect; so long as [Page 65] Mines and Countermines haue beene the Court-deuises. The last will neuer be good; so long as people do but conduct their fauorites to the Scaffold, and cry Alas, it is pitty; but who can helpe it? The first cannot thriue, be­cause offences with Kings out­weigh merits: as also the iealous còceit of safety, is a multitude of feares, and they threaten the most highly fauoured: The last is mor­tall, because hee surfets of one dish; nothing but fame: serued in (like Turkish Rice) by infinite waiters. And shall wee wonder if it choakes him, when he de­uoures all? The best loue there­fore that can be bestowed vpon the people, or the best friendship that you can receiue from them, is to suffer them in things in­different, or not to shew a cur­rish seuerity: for (like the Hunga­rian [Page 66] Heyduckes) their wrath is prone to mischiefe, and their amity is worth nothing: so that indeed to flatter with them, and not regard them, is a sound proposition: For if Coriolanus contemnes their authority, they can abhorre his name, and ba­nish his person: or at least ba­nish him from preuailing in publicke assistance. The safest course (that I can be acquainted with) to confirme and perfectly retaine noble dignities with good approuall; is to be immu­table honest, and no reported Polititian: for the very name containes (among generall opi­nions) much powder-treason, Atheisme, curses of inferiours, and condemnations of all, ex­cept their close minions.

An other thing that doth briefely replenish a noble Spi­rit, [Page 67] must be more example, dis­patch, or quick perfect motion, then precepts or doctrines: These being the dull laborious obiect, of melancholy Artists; the other being a Rhetoricall inducement to establish the de­light of action: In which no­thing drawes greater efficacie, then speedinesse and fortunate euent; though both these relie much vpon a contriuing facul­ty, which is begotten by a fre­quent practise. And therefore it betokens a sluggish feare, and priuate weakenesse, when wee loath to enterprise: For coura­gious mindes acquire hability (through custome) equall to de­sire: but when the appetite failes I perceiue no stomack of No­bility. It may seeme somewhat controuersiall, whether State-knowledge, or Militant resolu­tions [Page 68] be more gracefull to gene­rosity: And, questionlesse, I conceiue few Romane Sena­tors, or not any (except Cicero) was vnsufficient to lead an Ar­my, as well as to deliuer his opi­nion in the Councell-chamber: both be so vnseparably annexed, as wee may hardly thinke he ad­uises the Common-wealth lo­uingly, who is afraid to iustifie the Common-wealths quarrell; when himselfe adiudges it law­full. As for the outward pompe or magnific [...]nce of mighty per­sons, it may become a festiuall day better then common polli­cy: for this age doth not so soone adiudge the royall minde, as the fantasticke humour, by expence of needlesse brauery; accomp­ting that rather magnificence, when we expend our own about the Kingdomes glory: which by [Page 69] reflexe produces an apparant loue, and feare toward such actiue spirits. For all men reue­rence him truely, who is im­partiall, and industrious to ad­uance equity, or to confirme goodnesse with goodnesse a­mong a l. And howsoeuer the full stomackes of men will hard­ly suffer them to commend such worthy ones aliue; yet haue their deaths beene alwaies de­plorable. Whereas polliticke braines with false bottomes, haue found a publique curse, which was before restrained with Authority.

I dare not become an Instru­ctor, it appertaines to deepe Professours: Neither can I re­proue, it may incurre the name of Malapert: I labour onely, to proue by demonstratiue reasons, which is bare Counsell. [Page 70] As for Nobility, if it beare the name of Legitimate, it will beare a contempt also (with Agesilaus) to be reproued, when paines may happily discharge their fun­ction. Neither at any time shall high births aspire to hazardous downefals, if they esteeme honor as the reward of vertue, Theophra­stus. no vertue in it selfe.

Of Disinheritance. ESSAY. V.

IT is more impossi­ble for an vnnatu­rall father to bee a true friend, then for an abused sonne, to be an obedient sonne: because I thinke it is an irrepugnable pre­cept. That he who from a diue­lish disposition findes a soone-moued contrariety betwixt him­selfe and his vndoubted chil­dren, must (of necessity) bee a man who refuses all men, except aduantage pleades for them; see­ing he neglects those, for whom nature pleades, if aduantage bee [Page 72] absent. The same may be inferred concerning all degenerate Kins­folke, though in a lesse degree. But for the first I haue obserued it generally; that he who was apt for disinheritance, hath bene a man alwaies of as many affecti­ons, as there be faces: And as prompt to refuse any, as to re­ceiue any, if hee might saue by the bargain. Howsoeuer subiects be now grown so tyrannical, that where pretences may accōplish their malice, they cannot thinke there is a God, or, at least, they think God fauours their procee­dings. For calumnious preten­ces, and aggrauated trisles haue bene the common glosse of pa­rents cruelty in this kind: Their president is vulgar, for tyrants neuer slew without state-Alchi­my, or multiplication of preten­ded treasons; neither may Alex­ander lack occasion, so long as he [Page 73] had a meaning to kill Antisten [...]s. The hungry woolfe may call the lamb his debtor, but a good sto­mack is the day of payment and the prouerbe is well verified: If thou wouldst beate a dog heere is a staffe. So that although churlish parents pretend iust causes of dis­inheritance, yet these are quickly found, soone allowed, & as soon amplyfied. Frō whence you may gather, that no sparke of naturall affection, but only a compulsiue maintenance, keeps the reference betwixt such parents, and such children. For louing nature and affection be flexible, of long for­bearance, much pitty, manifest care; & keepe an establisht forme of affability, with which friends or kinsfolk be vnacquainted: this prouokes an eminent reflexe of loue; whereas rough carriage be­gets loue in Curres, but a con­tēptible scorne in Noble Spirits.

[Page 74]It is therefore more commen­dable to follow the extreame of vertue abounding, then defectiue: The first partakes with medio­critie in the nature; but the last is altogether opposite. We may more safely therefore allow in­dulgence, then austerity; because it approcheth neerer to true loue. For though indulgence hath made children loftie in be­hauiour towards others, yet (I obserue) it breeds a true and vn­diuorced affection towards the originall cause. It is therefore an excellent rule, for children, to receiue instruction of stran­gers; and by the consequent, to bee any way restrain'd without the parents knowledge, or at least their taking notice: where­by Nature cannot grudge a­gainst Nature, nor yet want re­prehension.

[Page 75]For howsoeuer Marcus Cato said well, That he had rather vnrewarded for doing well, then vnpunished for offences: yet we haue naturally a secret spleene against the Iudge, though wee account him righteous and im­partiall. It must bee expected then, that children doe know a difference betwixt Fathers and Maisters; which makes them the more implacable, when they see Nature impartiall. From hence Sertorius, a politicke Captaine, would not himselfe represse the impudence of his Souldiers; least, howsoeuer they deserued ill, yet his correction might take away their louing dutie: which respect made him suffer the ene­mies incursions, rather to scourge their insolence, whilst they, out of a hare-brained luna­sie desired battaile. And thus the [Page 76] sacred decree of Correction may bee kept vnviolate, and the loue of Children vnblemi­shed. For I am vnanswerably perswaded, that parents wrath diminisheth the Childes loue, making him seruile, or else re­fractorie to the doctrine of themselues and others; because they cannot vndertake with delight, so long as frownes and feare bee crept into their fan­cie. But affable parents be­get truely affectionate chil­dren, who may endure another mans reproofe to mitigate the name of Cosset, and yet louing­ly adore the father because hee was alwayes louing. So then the Fathers diligent loue, and a Tu­tors modest instruction, may make a seldome-seene heire af­fect his Fathers life without hy­pocrisie, and proue a venerable [Page 77] wise man. Without which loue apparant, or oftentimes indul­gence, I see an eldest sonne, instead of the Fathers blessing, render backe sweating curses. I see another inclining onely to the mother; and a third, slippe into his disinherited For­tune.

The Comaedian therefore saith ingenuously touching a fathers dutie: I ouer-passe expen­ces, I call not euery thing to a strict account; and that which other sonnes labour to keepe secret, I do not bitterly condemne in mine, lest many things should bee concealed; for hee that (through a rugged v­sage) depriues his father (by false excuses) of youthfull accidents, will soone deceiue others. It is more availeable then, to governe by liberalitie, not base compul­sion: for hee that thus becomes [Page 78] obedient, expects onely till hee may want the witnesse of his a­ctions.

Now for the dangerous effect of parents changeable loue (it having beene propounded, that want of loue breedes disinheri­tance) I will demonstrate, how horrible, vnlawful, & impossible disinheritance maybe iudicious­ly accounted. The diuorce of mariage is a weighty case, much forbidden, much controverted; because marriage it selfe is made a strict vnion, so farre as Hus­bands seeme incorporate with their Wiues, being both to bee taken as one flesh. But this vni­on admits many exceptions; neither may any thinke their be­ing made one, extends further, then the rhetoricall aggravati­on of vnitie, to insinuate how difficult a thing Diuorce will be [Page 79] betwixt two, so narrowly vni­ted: but children haue a more exquisite property of indiuorce­able, because they really partake with parents by existence; deri­ving a particular & true strength of body from the parents abili­tie. And therefore it seemes the matter of disinheritance is a thing so odious, as (being held improbable to be acted among the Iewes, or any Nation) no Law of Scripture contradicts it. Indeed rebellious sonnes are by the verdict of Divine iniuncti­on, to suffer death, if they shall strike the parents, or rise vp a­gainst them: But for the matter of Disinheritance (which farre transcends the punishment of death, as shall appeare) I haue read no sillable which may giue the toleration of Divinitie. Death indeed, comparatiuely re­spected, [Page 80] may bee thought the best wages of a rebellious sonne: for the act includes his full sen­tence; because to smite his pa­rent, is to seeke the destruction of his efficient cause: which act keepes within it so much ingra­titude, as heauenly Iustice can doe no lesse then remoue him, who durst remoue his begetter; it beeing an inseparable part of holinesse, to pay offenders with their owne coyne. But disinhe­ritance so much exceeds death, as it approches to a continued torment. Death is so fa [...]re from misery, wh [...]re men expiate of­fences, as it rather affoords feli­city, because it giues a present satisfaction, and a present hope to enioy a good portion; if pe­nitence, and a satisfactory mind be companions. But disinheri­ritance, or abdication, doth not [Page 81] onely enforce death, but makes the circumstance tyrannicall. A violent death is but an abridge­ment of nature; but disinheri­tance doth often bring a violent death, and enlarge the wicked­nesse of nature. I see no diffe­rence betwixt them in the con­clusion: for death is an effect commonly of disinheritance; but no death more excludes all humanitie. The case is palpable. I giue directions to a traveller: hee arrogantly contemnes my counsell; which doth so much provoke mee, as (to amend the matter) I draw him by com­pulsion to an apparant ambush: in which, after many sustained a­buses, horrible vexations, and desperate incounters, hee con­cludes his life with infamie; or perhaps blasphemy. So, currish and cruell parents, by disinheri­tance [Page 82] deales every way answera­ble to this similitude. The hor­ [...]or of which barbarisme is the more amplified, by so much as naturall affinitie claimes a more humane president then strangers. Banishment or abiu­ration is tolerable: for it takes originall by publicke decree, su­perior counsell, and authority of those, from whom I can cha­lenge nothing but iustice; wher­as disinheritance, a National ba­nishment (transcending forraine exile in the Cause and Manner) proceedes from priuate occur­rences, which cannot reach so high an affliction; because the nature of it is equall to, nay aboue publicke iustice.

Now it may well bee estee­med humane, when parents pu­nish with rigor, where the Law condemnes not; because in e­very [Page 83] offence highly punishable, the Law is open: if that con­demnes, the Parents loue may a little bee excused, though hee doth not excuse his sonnes accusation; but where himselfe exceedes the Lawes rigor, when the Law is silent, and becomes Accuser, Iudge, and Executi­oner, wee may discouer a dam­nable flintie heart; apt enough for massacre; seeing hee first plaies the tyrant with his owne Image.

Parents therefore cannot ar­gue and say (except Disinheri­tance) they haue no remedie for disobedience; seeing there is no crime which may deserue so great satisfaction, but the Law is all-sufficient to render Iustice, and saue them vnpre­iudiced in the aspersion of Vnnaturall: which the Title [Page 84] Disinheritance drawes with it inseparate. For if wee take a view of those impulsiue cau­ses which breede occasion, wee shall perceiue how accessary Parents bee to all their Chil­drens vices; and by the conse­quent, how culpable they are to punish that so strictly, of which themselues bee Authors.

Setting aside the position which makes the Children participate with Parents in vi­ces liable to constitution, wee may (without these) demon­strate, how guiltie they are of each notorious crime in Chil­dren, through a deficiencie of rectified education. For as, in naturall productions, nothing is so absurd, from which Art cannot extract a deere quin­tessence; so among naturall men, and the conditions of [Page 85] humanitie, nothing is so irre­gular, from which industri­ous and true instructiue me­thode cannot produce a Di­vine excellence. Indeed the dis­quisition of natures is difficult, and much iudicious labour be­longs to the true sifting of a perverse disposition. But que­stionlesse, the worst natured a­mong all badde men, are, by a true seasoning of minoritie, a wise progresse, or institu­tion of ripe yeares, and an in­genious confirmation of pra­ctises well deserued; they are capable of goodnesse, subdued in mischiefe, and apprehensiue in a sufficient measure. So that we must not ignorantly impute the curse of Children to a wrong cause, seeing it is either the curse of the Parents; First, not to instruct children at all. [Page 86] Secondly, not to instruct them sufficiently. Thirdly, not in the true manner. Examples are infinite: Alcibiades may in­clude all. Hee, a voluptuous and sensuall Swaggerer, could neuer bee reclaimed by many strong experiments; till com­ming by chaunce to the Phi­losophicall Lecture of Socra­tes, hee was suddenly conver­ted: such a sympathie there was betwixt this Philosophers do­ctrine, and the Disciples atten­tion; whereas twenty others might perhappes haue beene frustrate in the same conuer­sion, though their Precepts had beene equall; because there is an invisible concordance to make them aequiualent.

Which manner of instru­ction, respecting the quali­tie and person, of method and [Page 87] Tutors, bee matters onely ap­pertaining to the Parents charge. Now (if a curse impo­sed vpon them, bee a hinde­rance to the perfection of both, whereby they neither can be prouided of true Instructors or instructions) Shall wee ac­cuse the childe as an efficient of the Fathers curse, or the fa­thers curse now existent, as an originall of the childs future in­conueniences?

This being necessarily con­cluded, wee may well inferre, concerning disinheritance, That parents curses beeing the one­ly causes which may prouoke this irreligious act (seeing they might sometimes, but doe not, and doe not sometimes because they cannot, though it be possible, ingraft good­nesse) by their owne igno­rance; [Page 88] wee may inferre, (and that most iustly) that they re­semble Heliogabalus, who be­ing the cause of his friendes drunkennesse, would cast the miserable wretches amongst tame Beares and Lyons, to ter­rifie them when they awa­ked. But herein they differ: hee was the voluntarie cause of his Friendes; Parents, the vnadvised cause of their Chil­drens errour: in stead of which hee threw his friendes among tame Beares and Lyons; Pa­rents, by disinheritance, throw their issue amongst rampant Wolues.

For besides the perplexed imfamie, and sorrowfull pertur­bations of such excluded Cast­awayes; what shal we coniecture touching their desperate re­solution? Or how shall wee [Page 89] condemne, if they bee mer­cilessely ouerthrowne by the impulsiue necessity of de­struction? Seeing their desti­tute fortune inuites them to embrace each glistering temp­tation, and to shake hands with calamity.

I cannot (for mine owne part) comprehend all this without remembrance and pit­ty of such parents ruines; see­ing they cannot discharge all, before children haue incurred destruction without them.

Nothing is written which doth not amplifie our in­struction (saith Diuinity) and Nothing amongst all is more effectuall then true OBSERVATIONS, ex­cept DIVINITIE. Most ingenious therefore and full of perswasion, may that Morality [Page 90] bee, soone collected from in­sensible creatures, they haue an excellent and singular loue (each creature in his kind) to nourish vp their weake little ones. The hunted Lionesse driues her whelpes before. The pregnant Beare forsakes not her den vn­till she be deliuered; neither do the whelpes come forrh vntill they can escape danger. The Snake swallowes her yong, if any disaduantage happens. And aboue all, most admirable is na­tures ingenuity, touching that forraine creature, called by the name of Su; which (being per­secuted) shuts vp her Cubbes in a depending scrip, and so pro­tects them from the Huntsman. The multitude of examples would be tedious. Briefly there­fore, it is a generall note among them; they neuer forsake their [Page 91] infantry till it be able euery way (like themselues) to preuent mischiefe.

This may rebuke all cruell­minded parents, who (notwith­standing the discursiue light of reason) can cast off meere Hu­manity, and goe beneath a bru­tish goodnesse of nature, not onely to forsake, but to abhorre their issue; and leaue them desti­tute, before they be any way ena­bled to sustaine nature. For children bee indeed thus re­iected euer, because they be vna­ble. Omitting these indifferent allegations, which some may account sophistry, rather then sound doctrine; because they beleeue nothing but what Scrip­ture makes apparant; nor that can be accepted among them, vnlesse no Christian contra­dicts it; neither can that which [Page 92] all acknowledge, winne often­times any more then outward beleefe. It shall bee therefore sufficient to confute this errour in question, by the soundest proofe; and then the vnbeliefe of Hypocrites will serue to multiply their condemnati­ons.

Wee cannot (where things bee left vntouched in Scripture) assume a safer patterne then the Omnipotent properties of our Creator. First then, that Metaphoricall affinitie, of fa­ther and sonne, which Himselfe hath pleased to entertaine be­twixt Himselfe and the Elected, may serue to instruct parents (without controuersie) in all de­grees of duty, and inseparate re­lation.

Now all agree vpon this Prin­ciple, that whomsoeuer God [Page 93] hath once loued, him hee hath loued euerlastingly. It is im­possible therefore, if at any time there hath bene Amity betwixt father and sonne, that (this being obserued) it should fall away to disinheritance. For if Gods Maiestie descend so low, as to continue his loue alwaies where Hee hath begunne to Loue: shall not imitation hereof be requi­site in fathers, who be comman­ded to loue their children, and in whom nature exacts more pro­portionate equality, then in the least degree can be imagined be­twixt holinesse and frailty? each circumstance appeares so mani­fest, as I know not how So­phisters can colourably distin­guish. A second instance may confirme this president. God neuer hath forsaken the most wicked Reprobates, till [Page 94] they haue voluntarily forsaken him first: The prodigall deman­ded his portion, left his father, and yet the father willingly ac­cepts him being conuerted. This becomes farre opposite to the practise of our age: so pe­remptory is the humor of dis­inheriting-parents, as they for­get common charity, and re­fuse loue with an implacable contempt of reconcilement. As for the pretended causes which commonly prouoke parents, I cannot any way coniecture, that they be either halfe so infinite, or in the least degree so terrible, as those with which all parents prouoke Omnipotence: & ther­fore I cannot well see how such fathers can claime the petition of forgiuenesse, when they can­not forgiue their owne issue. The heire of a Kingdome enti­tles [Page 95] himselfe not more iustly to his Crowne, then eldest sonnes do to their homely inheritance. Now I obserue, that wheresoe­uer hath been a successory regi­ment, there, weake-braind, ryo­tous, tyrannicall, and lewd prin­ces, haue been admitted to their dignities without contradicti­on. And doth not the bloud of common heires answere to a Kings priuiledge, in the Title of Legitimate? Why then shall wee protect such vniust partialitie? If children should receiue no more thē they deserue: or if they shold claime interest of loue, no longer then merits make a full proportion; how should the li­berality of parents, and the pre­rogatiue of children, appeare? or what thankes and filiall loue may Fathers expect from such Children, more then from good [Page 96] Apprentices? Cimon could in­tombe his Mares, when they purchased credite in the swift races of Olimpiades. Xanthippus could bewaile his dogges death which had followed his Maister from Calamina. Alexander could erect a Citty in the honor of Bucephalus, when hee had long bene defended by him in the dangerous attempts of many fortunate battailes. The Asse may well (among the Heathen) be adorned with Lillies, Vio­lets, and Garlands; when their Goddesse, Vesta, by an Asses voyce, auoyded the rape of Pri­apus. If merits therefore should onely challenge the loue of pa­rents, nothing might make a difference betwixt sonnes and bond-slaues: Seeing bare Hu­manity, and the Law of Nati­ons hath accounted the ho­nours [Page 99] of One worthy to be honored, nothing but equall and ne­cessary thankes. Nay, in all ages, so bountifull and respectiue hath authority beene to true merites, as euen the desertlesse children haue met with dignitie to remunerate the fathers worthinesse: Thus did the A­thenians bestow great wages vpon Lysimachus, to gratifie the seruice of Aristides: And thus the Romans preferred the cause of Marcus Brutus, because his Ancestors had tooke the Countries quarrell against ty­rants. Shall fathers then e­steeme it such irregular cu­stome to dignifie their owne begotten issue, though desert­lesse; seeing strangers haue done this to congratulate good fathers?

Two examples there bee an­tient [Page 98] and moderne (worth our memory) that shew the practise of our Theame in question; and affoords singular obserua­tion. The first is euident, in the raigne of Agis a Lacedemo­nian King: In whose prin­cipall Citie of Sparta, the custome had prohibited alie­nations that preiudice the heire: The custome grew to bee a confirmed Law: After conti­nuance, there fell a diffe­rence betwixt one of the high­est Magistrates and his eldest sonne: The father was so actually prouoked, that hee ex­hibites a Decree to licence Disinheritance; the Decree was established: And after­ward (saith Plutarch) coue­tousnesse became publick. From hence my obseruation is dou­ble. First, the originall cause of [Page 99] disinheritance was fury: Second­ly, the commodity was ranke couetousnesse.

Lastly, it is apparant by the Tower-rowles, that (during the raigne of Edward the fourth) one Thomas Burdet an English­man, being somewhat innocent­ly condemned to death (about captions tearmes ignorantly vt­tered) in his way to death es­pied his eldest sonne, whom (before) hee disinherited: him therefore hee penitently recei­ued; and hauing now confessed seriously, that hee felt Gods wrath vpon him onely to punish that vnnaturall sinne: Hee hum­bly beg'd forgiuenesse of God, and of his sonne: The applica­tion of such a paenitent remorse is easy.

Hauing now marshald vp this troope of Arguments, [Page 100] which (I thinke) are approue­able; some (questionlesse) will account them white-liuerd soul­diers, drest vp onely with a Rhe­toricall habite: But censure is no lesse infinite, then often­times odious: Tryall therefore shall discharge the integrity of these; whilst I proceed briefly to muster one troope more; whose courage is enough ani­mated by their aduersaries weaknes; if not impossibility of appearance. For if the birth­right (which intitles an heire) be inseparate, then the prero­gatiue is also inseparate; for in­heritance depends vpon priori­ty; which being vnremoueable; the adiunct essentiall cannot perish without the subiect. Re­lations therefore be so congru­ous, that we may sooner affirme the Sonne and Father not to be, [Page 101] then heires and inheritance not to bee correlatiues: and by the consequent as lawfully may wee depriue both of Beeing; as we may permit the one without the other. (:*:.:*:.:*:) (* * *)

ESSAY. VI. Of Poetry.

POETRY is called the worke of na­ture: I rather thinke it a Diuine alacri­ty, entertained by the fitnesse of nature: for if (in generall) a cheerefull spirit par­takes of a Diuine influence; then this (being spiritually maintai­ned, with a desire to communi­cate, and expresse such quick­ning [Page 103] inventions) can bee no other, being the soule of ala­crity, then an inuisible Diuine worke; which doth transport na­ture; whilst nature meruailes at the cause. Aristotle. Philosophie hath diuided our soules faculty; and makes the Intelligent part our principall essence; that cannot perish: Poetry depends on that, and a sublime fancie; they being the helpes of our dispo­fall: or (to speake truely) a Poet vseth euery function of the soule: Depending vpon which, hee must reiect Nature: for Nature perisheth; the Soule cannot. Nature is then the Hand-maide; but an Infu­siue worthinesse, the soule of Poetry.

Conceiue but this, and Na­ture will disclaime: Nature imparts her Faculties by Gene­ration; [Page 104] excluding study and cu­stome: A Poet neuer is engen­dred so, further then a naturall Logician, therefore he exceeds Nature.

We may obserue a sweete concordance in this mighty Fabricke: All things are cou­pled with an allusiue vnion: Life, is a flash of immortality; Sleepe, of death: middle age of Summer: Arts also, and ages past, haue a similitude with things inferiour, and signifie things future.

Language is likened to a Casket, Logicke to an Artifi­cers Instrument; Rhetoricke to a pretious Colour; And Poetry likewise hath a fit re­semblance with Prophecy: both bee an vnutterable rapture; both bee a boundlesse large capacitie: both bee a vniver­sall [Page 105] tractate: both bee con­fined within a small number: both bee discredited with false pretenders: both bee dispersed among men (originally) ob­scure: both bee alike neglected: both (generally) contemned alike.

Poetry is made the convey­ance of amorous delights: and certainely it doth bestow much sweetnesse in apparrelling loue­accents. This onely might discover it for a supreme do­natiue; seeing the musicke in heaven is an agreement of soules. Ierome Savanarola, the Monkish Phylosopher, makes Poetry a part of reasonable Phi­losophy; maintaining this, a­gainst naturall pretenders of Poetry: I will not meddle with his arguments, they are elabo­rate and learned: the truth is e­vident [Page 106] without serious proofe.

Verse and Rime bee things naturall: for they be onely co­lour and appearance: but if you value the Phrase and the Materi­als after the same proportion; as thinking your conceit able to furnish a poeme; you shall in­deed perceiue it likewise natu­rall; that is, naked, vnpolished, nay the scorne of Poetry. A quicke contriving head may vt­ter laudably; but never was a braine so sudden, as to compose well without the president of o­thers in the like kinde: nay, take the most illiterate Writers, (who propound experience and familiar allusions) they haue a time to Meditate, to compare, to dispose.

This Art of Poetry cannot proue eminent, vnlesse the wri­ter hath a reioycing heart, an ap­prehensiue [Page 107] head, and a disclou­ded memory. It is impossible therefore for one deiected by calamity, or one perplexed with questions of another Science, to get perfection in this free know­ledge: I say, perplexed with que­stions of another Science; because a Poet should rather copiously discourse of all, by application to a witty purpose, rather then be exquisite in a particular Art, respecting depth of rule, or quidditie. Notions, coniectures, and some of the best passages, be more sufficient for him, then a praecise certaintie of rules.

He therfore who propounds excellence, must refuse the mul­titude of questions, and the vex­ation of miseries: both bee as clogges and fetters to that aspi­ring facultie. From hence I may conclude the perfection of [Page 108] this Science doth match the straines of right Alch [...]mie: it be­ing (in both) alike impossible to find that man who shall directly promise to attaine perfection; because impediments exceede the meanes. The nourishment of Poetry is good applause: for Poems being made to allure and bewitch the reader in a les­son of moral precept, must pros­per in their meaning, or be dis­countenanced: As all professi­ons be, which make mens good opinions the reward of know­ledge: and therefore hath Eng­land affoorded few men accu­rate in Poetry, because opinion hath vouchsafed to ranke her a­mong triviall labours, and re­creatiue vanities: whereas the I­talians haue proved singular pro­ficients; because (saith Rosinus) au­thority hath graced their ele­gance. [Page 109] The reason (I thinke) which hath wrought in England such a degenerate value of Po­ems, proceeded (first) from the the professors ignorance & ge­nerall basenesse: but secondly from the stubborn gravity of the best readers; who scorne to ac­count the best Poems profitable works, because all haue hitherto bin accounted slight composures, or at best vnprofitable. And we i­magine it a weaknesse to recant an error. Some haue certainely contemned the worthiest labors even throgh malicious despaire of attempting the like worthily. Howsoever, the base opinion which Poetry incurs among vs, hath bin repaid with iustice: that is, the discredit of our Nation: for our vnder-valuing opini­on hath deprived the publicke of more iudicious workes then [Page 110] bee already extant: And so the glory of our Nations eminent wit, hath beene eclipsed with forraigners.

As for the private and sensi­ble benefit (which any shal con­ceiue in publishing his labours) I see none vertuous but this: he may excuse (by them) his silent nature; and bee accounted bet­ter, as a Melancholy Poet, then a speechlesse foole. Fame and Emi­nence savour of a fruitlesse am­bition; that will now purchase nothing for Poetry by prefer­ment, but an opinion that Poe­try is his knowledge, and (it be­ing so) that he is fit for nothing else: or some perhaps; nay, the wisest, will bestow compassion, and say, It is pitty such a pregnant wit should e [...]d [...]uour so idly. These bee the comforts of beeing fa­mous: let Doetrs be ambitious [Page 111] of it. The deepest Poets haue neglected verse, I meane the polished forme of verse: but I would sooner loue such workes in prose; and heartily intreate such writers, even for their own dispatch-sake, and the readers also, to abandon Poetry, except they can avoyd that crabbed stile and forme, which weakens any readers appetite and appre­hension.

The relish of Poetry is a candied barke: an elegance so sweetned with apt phrase and il­lustration, as it excludes rough harshnesse, and all mystery: con­troversies and Phylosophicall questions bee therefore impro­per arguments for a Poeticall tractate: they cannot be expres­sed with an inticing libertie. Similitudes be the fit interpre­ters of Poets: when I affirme [Page 112] this, I doe not approue all simi­litudes, but such as doe inter­prete: which they cannot do, ex­cept they be more familiar then the thing interpreted. This con­demnes any, who from a depth in learning, shall produce the Mathematickes, to illustrate Grammer: or shall compare things knowne by repetition to an example in Astronomy.

Poore and Prodigall haue been a Poets Titles: these haue been fixt with a contemptiue mea­ning: but I imagine they ad­vance his qualitie: for therefore he neglects wealth, because he feeles in himselfe a Iewell which can redeeme his bondage in ad­versitie. Freedome of Braine and Body is a Poets musicke: Peace and Health preserue, and do re­viue his fancie. When therefore a Reward is motiue, it makes the [Page 113] labour like it selfe, servile. Poetry should therefore (being an im­partiall free science) be vnder­taken by the free Professor; a man sufficient in estate: such a one as need not vse flattery to win re­ward; nor so indite, that things may be dispatched quickly, and his wants quickly furnished; nor so dispatch, that hee may rather make things saleable, through obscoenitie or scandals, then approved labour. These mis­chiefes follow a mercenarie hope: and therefore be mer­cenarie Poets odious: such (I meane) as are provo­ked by poverty, and will exact their wages.

ESSAY VII. Of Discontents.

PLeasure and Sorrow bee the obiects of vertue: but discon­tents may be thoght rather the obiects of pleasure. Vertue moderates the folly of pleasure & sorrow: but pleasure so moderated, re­moues discontents. I reckon dis­contēts among my private Sorrow may bee [...]dmitted in behalfe of p [...]blic▪ calamitie [...] which can not bee s [...] well tear­med Dis­contents.sor­rowes; which amplifie my owne mis-fortune; which feele the [Page 115] same (perhaps) a greater torment for my friends misery, then my owne: yes, I am better assured of my owne fortitude to contemne sorrowes, then of my friends aptnesse, to relish my counsels; or of his owne freedome to ad­vise himselfe: and therefore his vexation (he being my selfe) af­flicts me more iniuriously: be­cause I can overcome my owne, better then His. I call those pro­perly D [...]scontēted, who are busie­thoughted: who, like braine­lesse patients, are almost despe­rate if another giues them poy­son; and yet (being recovered) they will adventure to poyson themselues: for many of this ranke you shall perceiue, who having passed the discontents which come by others malice, will (of their owne accord) frame new perplexities: They [Page 116] will conceiue things otherwise then they be, and so nourish a conceit till they beleeue it reall.

Opinion is indeed the medi­ate cause of discontents; but then a rectified or false capacitie (being an immediate cause of rectified or false opinions) be­gets a true or idle discontent. I call that idle, which is begotten by an idle fancie: such idle dis­contents are soone expelled; they are a causelesse Melancholy, begot by alteration, dispersed by alteration: But Melancholy, meeting with a reall cause, be­comes a setled mischiefe. How­soever, nothing (though most worth our discontent) can bee said His or My discontent, vn­lesse wee so conceiue it. For certainly, a carelesse resolution may be freed from conscience and discontent together: wheras perhaps a nice examining head [Page 117] may so ensnare it selfe with mul­titude of thoughts, that the con­fusion may prouoke both: but then a carelesse resolution serues worthily to abate such idle, and such reall discontents. For as in naturall bodies fasting and food destroy & nourish; so in our dai­ly proiects, cōsideratiue thoughts and carelesse negligence fasten & remoue. The best Plato. Gilen. Cicero. D. Thom. Philosophers haue left a doubtfull number of mens perturbations; some as­signe sixe, some fiue, some foure, some eleven. They might (in my conceit) be all reduced vn­to a triple number: including likewise the very causes of all discontent. Imagine therefore they proceed first from iealou­sies of what kind soever; either in being contemned, neglected, or ambiguous of good successe: then from doubts not to be resolued, [Page 118] either through weaknesse of our vnderstanding, or intricacie of the question, then from an ex­treame desire, either of things difficult or impossible. To iea­lousies, and such desires, all are incident; to doubts and questi­ons, Schollers, or Scholler-like heads onely: these comprehend the summe of all our crosses: of all our sorrowes both in soule and body: Nay, all more nar­rowly may be reduced to a de­sire: for when we briefly say, He hath his desire, we must withall intend, that he is neither trou­bled with pleasure, griefe, feare, audacity, hope or anger: the sixe turbulent passions reckoned by Plato.

Certainly (amongst all) per­plexed questions be to a labou­ring head, most troublesome: and lesse blameable was that [Page 119] found Aristotle. Philosopher, who made the Ocean capable of him, be­cause he was not capable of rea­son for the Ebbe and Flow; ra­ther then such as be ashamed to liue, when either needinesse, feare, ignominy, griefe, or dis­appoyntments contradict them. It is meere bestiall to dye vpon such weake incounters; which might be all confuted with a Heathens knowledge: but then to dye for ignorance may seeme excuseable: for such a liue is be­stiall, where we are ignorant of reason; and better is it to be ignorant of reason how to pre­vent death, then to preserue life in ignorance. The truth is, our discontents of any kinde do mis-informe our iudgement; no otherwise then a busie knaue, who (seeing the bad luck of law­full meanes) doth bribe the Ma­gistrate [Page 120] and neuer was a Magi­strate more easily bribed, then is a iudgement (so oppressed) cor­rupted. Wee haue no liberty to know, much lesse to iudge; no reason to discourse, much lesse to put a difference, no freedome to conceiue, much lesse to vnder­stand, when Discontents do trou­ble vs. They interpose our brigh­test eminence of wisedome; no otherwise then clowdes darken the Sunnes glory: They keepe a strong possession against our ver­tue & all good society. The most significant title they can deserue is Trecherous: for they breed sen­sibly an innovation; begetting in vs a preposterous change; & that commonly proceeds from worse to worse: For being more incor­porate with them & their muta­tiōs, we challenge lesse freedom in our selues, to help our selues. Discontents, like an extreme dis­ease, [Page 121] be of a shifting nature: they delight continually in motion; as men vehemently sicke doe change their beds & chambers.

A Discontented man does and vndoes, that he may doe againe: thinking to loose his humour in variety; or by aduenture (if by nothing else) among many changes to make one good one. But this desire of change cor­rupts our honesty. We shal per­ceiue a three-fold mischiefe which goes inseparate with dis­contents: for they bee ready to seduce our thoughts, our words, our actions: We mis- esteeme, mis- condemne, mis- attempt, through discontented passions. The rea­son is manifest: for Discontent being the companion of our thoughts, makes them, our words and actions ruled by that; and so become vnpleasing, like it selfe: Therefore doe male contents [Page 122] vnder-value merite in their owne opinion; Therefore (being waspish) they detract from wor­thinesse; therefore they dislike or doe condemne bitterly; and therefore, likewise, do men thus affected, vndertake more ven­turously then wisely. So that Sa­lust hath obserued well tou­ching the Character of Cati­lines adhaerents; that they were Homines quos flagitium, egestas, aut conscius animus exagita­bat.

And, questionlesse, such men so inwardly bitten with their owne afflictions, can finde no leasure in themselues to keepe affinity with others: Good So­ueraignes therefore, louing Pa­rents, honest Friends, loyall Subiects, wise Maisters, haue bene no male-contents: for (being so) it is impossible that [Page 123] such a troubled Fountaine should send forth any thing but offensiue tumults. There is no­thing more doth make our ene­mies reioyce, then a deiected spirit; and nothing more afflicts our soule then to be sensible of their reioycings; therefore doth that experienced Prophet Da­uid so often wish for a deliue­rance from their triumph; so often doth he lament their in­sultations.

Infinite are those aduantages, which may be had against men discontented: and therefore hath a melancholy spirit some prerogatiue in this respect; be­cause his time of discontent is scarce distinguished from his daily carriage; for night is soo­ner visible in an open Pallace, then a smoky Cottage. I may propound of these, what Celsus [Page 124] doth of Cole-worts: being halfe sodden, they are laxa­tiue; but twice sodden, they are binding: So discon­tents beeing but slightly ap­prehended and entertained, may bee a meanes sitting to prepare the way for honest ap­plications, and to purge securi­ty: But being suffered long to boyle within vs, they do con­firme their owne; and also stoppe the passage of other worse cor­ruptions.

Of Morall and awakening discontents, the wise Sa­lomon speakes; when hee re­solues positiuely; Anger is bet­ter then laughter, for by a sad looke the heart is made better: Melior est ira risu: quia per tristitiam vultus, corrigitur a­nimus delinquentis: Some Fauourites there bee, so much [Page 125] beholding to Fortune, that in a whole AGE they haue scarce learnt the definition of sorrow.

In these men the Prouerbe is verified; Fooles are Fortu­nate; and yet agreeable with an honest meaning: For those (I thinke) are chiefly bound to Fortune, or Proui­dence rather, who cannot through a good simplicity af­fect dishonest practises, and close dealings: It being con­sonant with reason, that men ill-befriended with a subtle Braine, should bee assisted with some higher POLI­CIE.

All that wee suffer, is by our OWNE or FOR­TVNES worke: Wee can­not bee too patient with For­tunes, too much prouoked [Page 126] with our owne workes of sorow: when fortune punisheth, wee haue no remedy; when our owne indiscretion punisheth, we may afflict our selues the longer with a wise fury, that wee may learne to recollect and to awaken our iudgement.

Some haue a resolute con­tempt for all aduersities; but such a valorous scorne may be ingen­dred by a sottish ignorance, or an vncapable dulnesse; no other­wise then both may be a Drun­kards motiues in extreme ha­zard.

As for my selfe; I neuer felt a sorrow, which I esteemed a dis­content, vnlesse it gaue no profi­table vse; either by making mee more circumspect and proui­dent; or acquainting me before­hand with my destiny. The most honourable dealing with our [Page 127] worst afflictions, is to confute them by a discourse of braine, and so exercise our knowledge, for our owne aduantage, against the foes of knowledge.

But none among the worst crosses shall indeed predomi­nate, if sometimes in a law­full humour wee doe crosse our selues.

Two Bookes of Cha­racters. The first Booke.

CHARACTER. I. An Impudent Censurer

IS the torture-mon­ger of wit, ready for execution be­fore Iudgement. Nature hath dealt wisely with him in his outside; for it is a priuiledge against con­futation, and will beget modesty in you to see him out-face: He is so fronted with striuing to dis­countenance [Page 130] knowledge, by the contempt of it, as you would thinke him borne to insolence, though indeed it bee habituall and comes by negligence of his company, which rather seeke to laugh and continue, then to re­forme his vanity. A Chimney-sweeper may conuerse with him very safely, without the hazard of blushing; and so may any that will contemne his igno­rance: buffets will conuince him better then language or reason: That proues him ranke-bestiall, descended from the walking Ape; which on the Mountaines seeme carefull Inhabitants, but at your approach, the formality of man onely. The Land-theefe, and Sea-captaine, be neuer lesse out of their way; but wiser com­monly about their obiect: They spare to wound poore trauel­lers, [Page 131] but he incounters any thing not worth eye-sight. A wise mans minde gouernes his body, his minde is onely restrained by a bodily feare: And if you hope to be released of what he dares, you must inforce him to what he dares not; and then you shall perceiue him to be the comi­call braggard, or the gingling spur. Lay aside this medicine and he is incurable; for hee is so ra­uisht with his owne folly, as hee often commends what he misin­terprets, and still dispraises (if he scorne the Author) because hee cannot perceiue. To commend therfore and discommend what he conceiues not, is alike tolera­ble and equall. The wilde Ara­bian comprehends him fully; for as the one, so the other, takes tri­bute and exaction of all passen­gers, except acquaintance and [Page 132] familiars: if any thing makes him praise-worthy, this must, or nothing; because he seemes (by this means) morall in frendship; and so in some kind vertuous: But his applause and detraction, are both odious, because aboun­ding through his meere plea­sure. When all Trades perish, he may turne Shop keeper, and deale with ballance; For in weights and measures none is more deceitfull. Hee ponders pithy volumes by the dram or scruple, but small errours by the pound. If he takes courage in his humour, he haunts the Au­thours company, recites the worke, intends it to some third person, and after he hath damnd the thing in question, hee refers himselfe to the right owner; who, if hee be there manifest, must coniure this deuill quicke­ly, [Page 133] or he will seeme honest, and craue satisfaction: but call his life in question, and he betraies his guiltinesse, which then accu­ses him of false dealing howso­euer; yes, though he hath com­mented rightly; for he com­mends ignorantly, and discom­mends scandalously. For deligh­ting in his humour, he makes his Free-hold an Inheritance: put it to the hazard, and he will com­pound for the title.

CHARACT: II. A Compleate Man

IS an impregnable Tower: and the more batteries he hath vn­dergone, the better able he is to continue immoueable. The time & he are alwaies friends: for he is [Page 134] troubled with no more then hee can well employ; neither is that lesse, then will euery way dis­charge his Office; So he neither surfets with Idlenesse, nor action. calamities, & Court-prefermēts do alike moue him, but cannot remoue him: Both challenge from him a conuenient vse, no vilde indeuour, either to swell or dispaire. His religion, learning, and behauiour, hold a particular correspondence: He commands the latter, whilst himselfe and both be commanded by the first. Hee holds it presumption to know, what should be looked, or thought vpon with wonder; and therefore rather then he will ex­ceed, hee can be lesse then him­selfe: accounting it more noble to imitate the fruitfull bough which stoopes vnder a pretious burthen; then applaud the tall [Page 135] eminence of a fruitlesse Birch­tree: knowing Humility is a fit­ter step to knowledge, then Pre­sumption. He smiles vpon Vice and Temptation first, seeming to allure it, till, without suspici­on, hee may soone disrobe and disarme it: For hauing laboured to know the strength of follie, he knowes it to be his Captiue. From hence proceeds his victo­rie, in that he can preuent mis­chiefe, and scorne the advan­tage of basenesse. His worthi­nesse to bee rewarded hee may conceale: but his desire to doe nobly, in a better kinde, his acti­ons will not suffer to bee vn­knowne; by which the world can iudge he deserues, and saue him from the scandall of a Cunning Hypocrite. If merites direct him in the way to honor, they do not leaue him in the way to honour; [Page 136] but are his best attendants to ac­company his whole preferment: For to deserue what hee ob­taines, and to deserue no more, is sluggish; to deserue after a thing bestowed, is duely thanke­full; But a continued merit stops accusation. Whatsoeuer he bor­rowes of the world, is by him­selfe paid back with double inte­rest: For what hee obserues, passeth through the forge of his wisedome, which refines it; and the file of his practise, which confirmes it as a good patterne: So the interest exceeds the prin­cipall, and (which exceeds all) praiseth the vsurer. The name of guilt (with him) is vanished vn­der the charme of a good con­science: which with his eye-sight saue his tast a labor: for he knows what experience can teach, but is not taught by experience. [Page 137] Hee is faithfully his owne friend: and accepts the friendship of others for his owne sake; but im­parts his owne for others. When he loues, hee loues first: from hence hee chalenges a double honour: for Loue and Prioritie is a two-fold merit. Hee lackes nothing to ingender happinesse; for he can spare nothing that he enioyes; he enioyes it so honest­ly: And that hee hath already, serues to purchase new content­ment. For as he liues, his capaci­tie is enlarged, though before it were sufficient for his other fa­culties: they be most numerous when himselfe is nothing: for being dead, hee is thought worthier then aliue: then hee departs to his aduance­ment.

CHARACTER. III. A good Husband

IS the second part of a good man: hee chalenges no more nor lesse from Art or Nature, then doth become his facultie, and giue comfort to his wife; so he doth not (by striuing to please) seeme low minded; nor by ouer-valuing his proper­ties, proue a tyrant. His behaui­our and discourse promise no more then he meanes, and may very well iustifie. Hee is not al­together to bee chosen by the common weight, or standard; for his best parts be invisible. A good wife shal know him quick­ly to bee worth her taking: for h [...]e enquires out her worthi­nesse first. He is not therefore [Page 139] put to much trouble of being denied twice: for if hee thinkes he can prevaile amisse, prevaile too soone, or not prevaile, be­cause hee is too good; hee hath the modesty to refuse first: but otherwise, if opinion dares sus­spect, and so refuse him first, hee may account it happinesse, be­cause he was refused so soone: hauing (by that meanes) escaped one who could not discerne him. The honor of a good wife makes him no more vnpractised in the patience of a bad, then if hee conversed with her: so his ver­tues be habituall, not enforced. The misery of a bad wife like­wise hath no more [...]nraged him to discredit all, then the worthi­nesse of a good one hath moued him to bee an Idolater: So his blessing is, not to augment his curse, or curse his blessing. The [Page 140] highest end of his marriage pre­meditated, is to resolue how he may desire it without end. Hee feeles not the absence of youth by a decay in lust; but measures the approach of a crooked body by his entire affection. Hee nei­ther deceiues himselfe with a foolish confidence, nor drawes a disadvantage to himselfe, by being distrustfull: for he may bee acquainted with those, to whom hee cannot safely com­mit his wealth, much lesse his wiues honesty; but hee never suspects, before he be past suspi­tion, and every thing be appa­rant. Hee hath (notwithstan­ding) no friend whom hee dares make his deputie. Hee seekes ra­ther to bee well knowne, then commonly noted: for beeing knowne, hee cannot bee mista­ken; but otherwise it is very [Page 141] doubtfull. Hee hates not her, but hers; and that with a hope to make her detest herselfe, not bee divorced from him: for hee couets rather to bee daily amending her, then make a new hazard, or want resolution. Hee may dislike therefore his wiues humour, and loue her in the same quantitie. Hee cannot bee chosen, because a better is absent: for hee is himselfe, the president & the paterne. He can­not therefore be refused, if he be well known: For being good, hee proues the best, and beeing so, the best Husband.

CHARACTER. IIII. A Contented Man

IS a faire building in the bot­tome of a Valley: you can dis­cerne nothing about him, vn­lesse you approach neere, and nothing in him worth himselfe, vnlesse you doe proceed. There is no land like vnto his owne conscience: that makes him sow and reape together: for acti­ons bee (with him) no sooner thoughts, then they proue com­forts, they bee so full of Inno­cence. His life therfore is a con­tinuall haruest: his countenance and conuersation promise hope; they both smile vpon their ob­iect: neither doth the end faile his purpose: for his expectation was indifferent and equall, ac­cording [Page 143] to the meanes. Events therefore cannot oppresse him; for he propounded all, before he vndertooke some; and saw the extreamest poynt of danger, be­fore he did imbarke. He medles no further with vncertainties, then losse and lucre be alike in accident: for doubtfull things of moment, make men stagger; whilst hope and feare distracts them. If probable and lawfull meanes deceiue him, they can­not trouble him: for he ascribes nothing to himselfe, that is a­boue him. When Gods deter­minations doe therefore disap­poynt; hee neither maruailes, nor mis-interprets. Neglected fortunes, and things past, hee leaues behinde; they cannot keepe pace with him. The neces­sity of things absent, he measures by his meanes: but as for things [Page 144] impossible, hee could neuer be­gin to affect them. And in the quest of future proiects, hee ne­uer doth transgresse the pesent comfort. Hee can with as much selfe-credit bee a Captiue, as a promoted Courtier. Dignities may do him honour, not entice him: povertie may threaten, and be peremptory, but cannot o­uer-come. Riches may make his honesty more eminent, not more exquisite. Hee is so far from ad­ding malice to any, that he can praise the merits of an enemy. Anger and Revenge bee two turbulent passions: in him (therefore) the first shewes one­ly that hee can apprehend: the last, that he can iustly prevent further mischiefe. So he neither doth insult through anger; nor satisfie his bitternesse by re­venge. Repentance, which with [Page 145] some proues melancholly, with him proues a delightfull assu­rance: for seldome doth hee lament things meerely vici­ous, so much as vertues im­perfectly attempted. Hee vn­dertakes every thing with more advantage, then any (but him­selfe) can imitate: for beeing voyd of troublesome vexation, his willing minde makes the way lesse difficult. His poli­cie and close dealing doe not disturbe his time of pleasure, or his quiet dreames: For he can awake with as much delight in day, and sleepe with as much solace in the darke, as either his intimate purpose can awake to every mans ap­plause; or bee concealed to his owne safetie, and no mans detriment. Hee doth not rea­dily incurre anothers rage; [Page 146] nor doth hee raile against him­selfe; for he cannot bee before hand with quarrelsome engage­ments; nor rashly run into a ma­nifest error. He doth not there­fore (when all approue him) mis­call himselfe, closely, damned Hypocrite, or lewd villaine. He feeles more felicitie in this, that he can forbeare to enioy a­ny thing, rather then let any thing enioy him; or rather then hee will enioy any thing indi­rectly. He is not so selfe-subsist­ing that hee scornes to borrow; so shamelesse, that hee borrowes all: nor so alone contented, that others doe not partake in his freedome: or so absolute in free­dome, that hee becomes not more absolute by the vse of o­thers. Hee makes more ill mea­ [...]ings good, by good constru­ [...]tion, more haplesse events ho­nest [Page 147] by a lawfull confidence, and more dangerous vndertakings easie, by a calme proceeding, then the contrary. For (whilst hee knowes Iealousie as a feare­full, eating, and distastfull vice) hee cannot suspect without the cautions of why, whom, how, where and when. Briefly, beeing contented, hee is content to be happy: and being so, he thriues best when hee thinkes best: he does more then he vndoes. He wins more often then he saues: and, like the Caspian Sea, re­maines the same vnchangeable.

CHARACT. V. A good Emperour

IS the second Sauiour to Christi­anity, and a direct center of his [Page 148] peoples loue: his greatnesse ex­tends rather to posterity, then is confident of pedigree. He may be counselled or confirmed, but his election remaines peculiar. His obiect therefore (to dis­cerne) may be infinite, or extra­vagant; but paterns (to imitate) must be supernal; for he acknow­ledges but one supremacy, and in that remembers a succession: which makes him leaue mans precepts vnto frailty, view honor as a thing mediate, himselfe im­mediatly next to his Creator, and doth onely know his high commission a determinable po­wer, not know and murmure. He lackes nothing of divinitie, but time in his prerogatiue, the want of which takes away eternitie: so all the honour which relates to him for Gods sake, conueighes it selfe to God for his owne. His [Page 149] feare doth vanish into loue or anger; for he may embrace or con­quer, but cannot submit. His roy­all bounty is as well prompt to take with honour, as to giue with liberty. And as hee can deserue nothing because on him depēds every thing: so is he not by any man to be deserued, because vn­to him every man owes his whole Inheritance. If therfore hee doth giue where subiects docōdemne; or chuse when multitudes aban­don; he doth but manifest his free desires, and shew affinity be­twixt himselfe & holines: which raises from the dunghill to the scepter; and from the most ob­scure disdain of vulgar thoughts vnto the state of happinesse. Nay oftentimes this secret in pub­licke office, proues true; That men without the aid of birth, and glory of famous merit, lack only [Page 150] so good an entrance, but haue commonly a better ending: or at least, striue more to at­taine what others presume vppon. The event therefore makes his large prerogatiue true wisedome, which may bee mis-interpreted weaknesse. The Lyon, a King of beasts, is reco­uered in sicknesse, by eating an Ape; and a good King by devou­ring flatterers.

CHARAC. VI. A worthy Poet

IS the purest essence of a wor­thy Man: He is confident of nature in nothing but the form, and an ingenious fitnesse to conceiue the matter. So he ap­proues nature as the motiue, not [Page 151] the foundation or structure of his worthinesse. His workes doe every way pronounce both nou­rishment, delight, and admirati­on to the readers soule: which makes him neither rough, effe­minate, nor windy: for by a sweet contemperament of Tune and Ditty, hee entices others to goodnesse; and shewes himselfe perfect in the lesson. Hee never writes vpon a full stomacke, and an empty head; or a full head, and an emptie stomacke. For he cannot make so Diuine a re­ceptacle stoope to the sordid folly of gall or enuy, without strength: or strength of braine stoope, and debase it selfe with hunting out the bodies suc­cour. Hee is not so impartiall as to condemne every new fashion, or taxe idle circum­stance; nor so easie as to allow [Page 152] vices, and account them gene­rous humours. So hee neither seekes to enlarge his credit of bitternesse, by a snarling seve­ritie; nor to augment his substance by insinuating court­shippe. Hee hath more debt­tors in knowledge among the present Writers, then Credi­tors among the ancient Poets. Hee is possessed with an inno­cent libertie, which excludes him from the slavish labour and meanes of setting a glosse vp­pon fraile commodities. What­soever therefore proceeds from him, proceedes without a mea­ning to supply the worth, when the worke is ended; by the addi­tion of preparatiue verses at the beginning; or the dispersed hire of acquaintance to extoll things indifferent. He does not there­fore passionatly affect high pa­tronage, [Page 153] or any further then hee may giue freely; and so receiue back honest thankes. The dange­rous name and the contempt of Poets, sprung from their multi­tude of corruptions, proues no disaduantage or terrour to him: for such be his antidotes that he can walke vntouched, euen through the worst infection. He is no miserable selfe-louer, nor no vnbounded prodigall: for he can communicate himselfe wise­ly to auoide dull reseruednesse, but not make euery thought common, to maintaine his mar­ket. It must be imputed to his perfect eye-sight, that he can see error, and auoide it without the hazard of a new one: As in Po­ems, so in proiects, by an easie coniecture. Hee cannot flatter, nor bee flattered: If hee giues Desert, hee giues no more; [Page 154] and leaues Hyperbole in such a matter of importance: As for himselfe, he is so well knowne vnto himselfe, that neither pub­licke fame, nor yet his owne con­ceite, can make him ouervalued in himselfe. Hee is an enemy to Atheists; for he is no Fatist nor Naturalist: hee therefore ex­cludes Lucke and Rime, from the acceptance of his Poems; scor­ning to acknowledge the one as an efficient, the other as an essence, of his Muses fauour. Hee paies back all his imitation with interest; whilst his Authors (if reuiued) would confesse their chiefe credit was to bee such a patterne: otherwise (for the most part) he proues himselfe the pat­terne, and the proiect in hand: Siluer onely and sound mettall comprehends his nature: rub­bing, motion, and customary [Page 155] vsage, makes the brightnesse of both more eminent. No mer­uaile though he be Immortall, seeing he conuerts poyson into nourishment; euen the worst obiects and societies to a wor­thy vse. When he is lastly silent (for he cannot die) hee findes a Monument prepared at others cost and remembrance, whilst his former actions bee a liuing Epitaph.

CHARACT. VII. An honest Lawyer

IS a precious Diamond set in pure gold, or one truely honest, and a compleate Lawyer: The one giues glory to the other; and be­ing diuided, they be lesse valua­ble. Diuinity, and a corrected [Page 156] nature, make him habituall in the first; but studious labor, & a dis­cursiue braine make him equal, if not absolute, in the last: he knows Law to be the M ris of man, & yet hee makes Honesty the M ris of Law. The first therefore may ex­ceed the last; but the last neuer hath predomināce in him, with­out the other. He is too diuine to be tempted with feare, fauor, Mi­nerals, or Possessions; and too di­uine not to be tempted with per­fect knowledge, & a pittifull cō ­plaint: he hath as much leasure to conferre with conscience, in the most busy Terme, as in the dead­est Vacation: And he is alwaies more diligent to maintain wron­ged pouerty, then attentiue to allow iniurious Greatnesse: hee can as freely refuse a prodigall, or enforced bounty, as hee can accept or demand due recom­pence: [Page 157] He resorts to London with a more full braine, then empty bags, and (at his returne) he pur­ses vp more full comfort, then yellow coine. He cannot bee so cōfident as to persist in error; nor so ignorāt as to erre by weaknes: When therefore (through an a­boundance) some knowledge is confounded; his errour onely proues a doubtfull question; and serues to reduce scattered rem­nants into methode. The multi­tude of contentions make not him reioice in the number, but in the difficulty; that truth may appeare manifest to our proge­ny. He railes not against the vi­ces of his profession, but makes his profession commendable by his owne practise of vertue: his Clients disease of being suspēded touches him like his own sicknes; hee dares not giue a dangerous purgation to dispatch him, nor [Page 158] by negligence and delay, let the euill grow inward and incorpo­rate; to strengthen it selfe, or con­sume the patient. He is therefore exquisit in preseruatiues against the consumption; though per­haps he may faile in restoratiues to support weakenesse. Hee may well bee a president to the best Physitians; for he vndertakes no cure when he perceiues it incli­ning to bee desperate: So hee makes the cause, and not his Client, the obiect of his labour. If hee hath fauour enough to make truth be currant, he lookes no further: which he needs not to patch businesse; nor would he willingly pursue it; if truth were not often discountenanced. Hee doth therefore at a Iudges death lament the death of his learning, not his owne priuate lucre: Hee can ride the circuit, and scorne [Page 159] to be circular. He hath no lea­sure to protract time or saue his Clients opinion with iests pre­meditated, or windy inferences: His modesty was neuer below his courage in a good cause; nor his courage inclining to impu­dence, though hee were still ho­nored with a prosperous euent. He owes so much worship to desert and innocence, that hee can as faithfully applaud suffici­ent worth, as not insult ouer, or exclaime against dull igno­rance. He is miraculously pre­serued against incantations: the strongest spell cannot charme him silent, nor the most temp­ting spirit prouoke him to a vaine pleading. He dares know, and professe in spight of poten­cy; he dares be rich and honest in despight of custome: And if he doth not grow from a good [Page 160] man, to a reuerend Title, hee scornes to bee a Traytor and blame tyranny; but he descends below his owne vnworthinesse. Briefly, he is a pretious vessell, he indures the rest, and the defi­ance of time: hee is a sound com­modity which neuer failes the Customer: and doth heartily confesse that whosoeuer swarues from this patterne, swarues from honesty, though he be deepely learned: Howsoeuer, he thinkes a Lawyer deepely learned can­not chuse but be honest; except multitude of Clients oppresse him.

CHARACT. VIII. A Detractor

IS his owne priuate foe, and the worlds professed enemy: He [Page 161] is indeed an obstinate heretick, and if you will conuert him, you must anew create him likewise: he is of the Mahumetā sect which hath despised all religious Arts, and Sciences, except the confu­sion of all; so he approues con­tinually the worst things among many good, and condemnes that which is iudiciously com­mended: to read therefore and refuse, makes vp the best part of his iudgement. His fiue senses haue a mortall combat with all obiects, that afford sense, or any thing vpon which they fasten: his eye could neuer yet behold a woman faire enough, or ho­nest enough, on whom he might bestow the sincere part of his affection: but he marries one to beget an equall society of froward children: his eare was neuer well contented with a de­licious [Page 162] tune, for the left is onely open, and that onely apt to con­ceiue discords through a custo­mary habit; which hath reiected all, and therefore will: For that he once hath, and is againe min­ded to oppose worthinesse, giues him both reason and encourage­ment to continue spightfull: but (to our comfort be it spoken) his enuy ends commonly with him­selfe, or at most, indeuours no otherwise then a nasty passen­ger, to rubbe against, and defile faire outsides, because himselfe is loathsome: hee stops his nose if a perfume approch, but can well endure a stinking draft, or kennell, and embrace the sauour: His palate hath no relish except hee may discommend his dyet, and yet hee consumes all to the very fragments: hee tou­ches or takes vp nothing which [Page 163] is not blasted by him with a naturall defiance; or at least hee will vtter the manifest forme of discontent. His tongue, the He­rald of his imagination, is a bu­sie officer, and will (without question) challenge the same reward of him, that it doth of women; for it dispatcheth the same seruice, and deserues therefore (proportionably alike) to bee called the maine pro­perty of each: hee is not inferi­our also to a woman in malice; for shee is that way limited, though vndeterminable: but hee transcends; accounting it his pompe to be infinitely licen­tious towards all. Hee railes against the Sate, and speakes treasons confidently to himselfe alone, expecting an euent of his desires: Nay, sometimes he is taken (through the licence of [Page 164] his tongue, and a litle sufferance of the company) in peremptory speeches that bring him to his answere: Neither will he hearken to reformation, till he lackes his cares: Hee is not (if a Church­man) ashamed to quarrell, first with his Patron, and openly dis­claime against the poore value of his Benefice: If, a common humorist, hee will diminish the worth likewise of a gift, before the giuers face; and lookes to the disconueniences, not the cōmo­dity, he receiues by possession. A slight Arithmetician may cast vp the totall sum of his Character: & by substraction (being the bo­dy of his soule) may find him vn­der the value of an honest man, aboue halfe in halfe: for he lacks Charity, and so comes short six degrees of a good Christian: and therfore is an egregious coward [Page 165] because he scornes to iustifie, ex­cept hee railes against the dead; thither he hastens being vnwor­thy to liue longer.

CHARACT. IX. An Humorist

IS the shadow of Vnderstanding, the traitor to Reason, or the vani­ty of a better man: Bloud-letting, a good whip, honest company, or reasonable instructions might (at the first) recouer him. But if he continues among laughing spirits one quarter, the disease will grow inward, and then the cure growes desperate. If his humour bee hereditary, hee is more familiar with it, and makes it the principall vertue of his family: If imitation breedes a habite, hee makes it the pledge [Page 166] of sworne brother-hood, or at least the fauour of new acquain­tance: he neuer is infected sin­gle, or with one onely; for either he is now admitted to the seue­rall orders; or hee is prompt enough to subscribe generally when occasion peeps. You must not dare to discommend, or call in question, his behauiour seri­ously with his companions; for thogh you cannot cal the humor lawfull, it is sufficient if you can cal it his humor. You may iustly forbeare to restraine him; for if he be truely adopted, he thinkes it an especiall part to be respect­lesse. Tobacco is a good whet­stone for his property; hee doth seldome therefore forget to pro­uoke his constitution this way: & (by being insatiate) he knowes well his humor may escape the search of reason, by vertue of the [Page 167] mist. He hath from his cradle bin swadled vp, with much obstinate and peremptory affectation: It being indeed cōmonly the cha­racter of his ripest age, to sup­port that freely in his man-hood, which was forbidden in the spark of his minority: hee neuer slips opportunity with deliberation; hee is therefore prompt enough to begin; and the reason of his act is enough, though onely that he hath begun, because humor is the motiue. There is nothing within the compasse of thought so triuiall, so absurd, and mon­strous, which his vanity will not auerre to be ponderous, decent, and naturall. Neither will he ab­hor to iustifie them by his owne practise, against all opposers. He trauailes vp and downe like Tom of Bedlem, vnder the title of mad Rascall, Witty Rogue, or Notable [Page 168] mad sla [...]e, and these attributes be a more effectuall oratory to ap­plaud his humour, then a direct cōmendation. He will not some­times (vpō smal discontinuance) vouchsafe to acknowledge, or (at least) know, his familiar friends, without much impertinence and Interrogatories of their name, or habitation; whilst another time, hee dares aduenture his know­ledge, & salutations vpon meere aliens. Hee is very much distra­cted, and yet I wonder how the frenzy should be dangerous; for he neuer breaks his braine about the study of reason or inuention: seeing his humour is the priui­ledge of both: It is therfore suffi­ciēt for him to be extreme melā ­choly, & be most ignorant of the cause or obiect; and suddenly to be vnmeasurably frolick without prouocation: whilst hee is onely [Page 169] beholding to a brainlesse tempe­rature in discharge of his cre­dit. He will converse freely with Serving-men & Souldiers with­in 12. houres; & presently when the ague hath once seized him, he proues tyrannicall and inso­lent towards the silly vermin. He never brake a vow in his whole life, or brake vowes continually: for either they haue not suted with his variety, to be intended, or hee hath intended to obserue them no longer then might a­gree with his body, which ebbes and flowes. When hee growes old, and past voyce, he learns for­raigne languages: as if, when he had dined, hee should devoure the sauce. In a word, he is a chiefe commander of actions, but no command [...]r of himselfe; being in his best brauery but a Turkish Slaue, ever subiect to desire [Page 170] and appetite: according to their paterne, hee is himselfe to him­selfe praise-worthy, or elegant; but to worthinesse it selfe, odi­ous.

CHARAC. X. A. Coxcombe

IS a needlesse Ornament: Hee takes the vpper hand of a foole, and of a wise man also; and in opinion is as good as a Courtier. His education hath beene (from a childe) tenderly fearefull; and the mother re­mains still afraid of his fortunes, least his politicke wisedome should hazard them too farre: whilst his fortunes hazard his wisedome. Hee hath beene al­wayes a yong Master, and yoked [Page 171] his eares first to insinuation, vn­der some oylie-tong'd seruant, or flattering Tutor. To know he hath rich kindred, and to de­riue a pedigree; satisfie his va­lour, learning, proficience in e­state or credit with meere con­templation. So much indeed doth he hang vpon the pillars of his gentry. As it shall therefore be the first preparatiue of his ac­quaintance to salute, and aske What countrey-man your Father is, of what house: or he will enquire his demesnes onely (of some neighbour:) and if your body be hansome, your cloathes pro­portionable, your parents weal­thy; he hath purchased an ever­lasting friend. A round oath is valour enough, a foolish Dittie Art enough, and good fellow­ship honesty enough. The truth is, he scornes to bee a searcher, [Page 172] and thinkes it enough for his Taylor to medle with linings. But in the circumstance of ma­king your cloathes, the price of your Beaver and silke stockins, your purpose to travaile, or of your long absence; The Spanish Inquisition cannot be so vnmer­cifull. He is contented richly, nay absolutely, to be taken onely for a harmlesse man. The gene­rositie and noble carriage of his discourse, is to run desperate­ly into the name of some coura­gious gallant Knight, or some Baron in favour: if their alliance to his family can be detected, he giues way with an apparant re­lish. He is very well fitted for all societies, if his out-side be suta­ble; further then which he never conversed with himselfe effectu­ally. Nor can I wonder, though he payes deerely, and preserues [Page 173] cloathes delitiously; seeing those alone are the maintenance of his whole worth; and therefore you shall perceiue him more furi­ously engaged about the ren­ding of his doublet, or a little lace, then a magnanimous box, or a bastinado. He is ambitious­ly giuen to be promoted, either by some embassage to divulge his pedigree, and learne fashi­ons, or by entertainment of some chiefe Noble men to dis­cover his bountie; and (withall) his stipendious affection. Hee shifts his familiars by the sur­vey of prospect, and the exter­nals; but his directions proceed from the proverbe of like to like, rather then Physiognomy. Hee is credulous and confident: the lesse certainty hee hath of a re­port, the more publicke hee is, and peremptory. Hee commits [Page 174] the best part of his vnderstan­ding to a talkatiue Barber: with whom he is the more fre­quent; because he thinks, to haue a curle pate, is to haue a visible wit. He would be Physicall, and iustly; for not to preserue his fol­ly in health, were to deceiue the world of his paterne: but being merry for disgestion, his laugh­ter is exorbitant, causelesse, end­lesse, and like himselfe. His sa­fest course will bee to marry: nothing makes him so sensible as a wise, good or badde; till then, the further he flies from his Character, he becomes it the more natural­ly. * * *

CHARAC. XI. A Ranke obseruer

IS his owne Comoedy, and his own Audience: for whatsoeuer hee frames by experience, hee ap­plauds by custome: but being out of his element, he is an Eele in a sand-bagge; for he, wanting the humor of his wrested obser­vance, falles away into ignorant silence. Hee is arrogant in his knowledge so far, as he (thinks) to study men, will excuse him from the labour of reading, and yet furnish him with absolute ra­rities, fit for all fashions, all dis­courses. He is a very promiscu­ous fellow; and from thence pro­ceeds the vice which makes him without difference, compre­hend ponderous and triviall pas­sages [Page 176] vnder the same degree of value or estimation. For what­soever becomes his politicke vent, becomes his vnderstan­ding. When he doth therefore fill vp the vessell of his conceits, he hath regard to such things as may bee vttered with most ad­vantage, either of money among the plaiers, or reputation among the generall gallants of our Cit­tie. He takes account of all hu­mours, and through the practise of a contempt to all, he partakes in all: for hee vses what he de­rides, vnder the priviledge of scorne, and so makes it familiar. So the largest benefit which o­thers reape by contemning the vice in himselfe, arises beyond his purpose or intention: for he extends to others no further then agrees with his owne gree­dy constitution, meaning to [Page 177] credit, or enrich himselfe; not a­mend others: by which meanes all his goodnesse is accidentall. He doth (notwithstanding) in some poynts resemble vertue; but in the worst manner. For being impartiall, he playes the tyrant; and sels the vices of his deerest friends to discoverie, by playes or pamphlets, but is con­tent that they should stil reserue them to their future infamie: So hee becomes sooner excluded oftentimes from society, then his flattring shifts can readily repaire. Flattery and insinuati­on be indeed the number of his thriving morall vertues, through which (vnder a pretence of faire meaning) he takes occasion to betray the marrow of mans vari­etie: and this affoords fuell for his bitter derision. His Table­bookes be a chiefe adiunct, and [Page 178] the most significant Embleme of his owne qualitie, that man may beare about him: for the wiping out of old notes giue way to new: and he likewise, to try a new disposition, will final­ly forsake an ancient friends loue; because he consists of new enterprises. His capacity is ap­prehensiue in a strange measure: if he were lesse capable, he might be more commended. For hee incroaches often vpon admit­tance (where things be well de­livered) to multiply his obser­uation: and yet hee will verifie the thing, as if it were now com­mitted. If hee converts to a de­serving qualitie, hee will pro­pound the credit of a good mea­ning no stipend for his vaine discoueries. Till then, he must intreate to be suspected, or odi­ous, whilst he whispers closely a­mong [Page 179] free companions: Nei­ther must he hope to amend the Age, or himselfe; because he ne­ver intended the first; and the last he forgets (though he inten­ded it) through vaine glory; as being transported with his pride onely, that he hath obser­ved, and can obserue againe. Briefly, he resembles a foolish patient, who takes a costiue pill to loosen his body: for whilst hee meanes to purge himselfe by observing other humors, hee practises them by a shadow of mockage, and so becomes a more fast corruption: if he doth not therefore feele the disease, hee dies hide-bound. (* * *)

CHARACT: XII. A Parish Polititian

IS Machiavels Mungrell Puppy; taken from schoole before he hath learned true Latine; and therfore in triviall things onely, hee partakes with the Sire; be­cause he lackes true breeding, and true bringing vp. Hee la­bours commonly for opinion where he is so well knowne, that opinion would persecute him, without labour: he thinkes reli­gion deceiues most vnsuspe­cted; and therefore hee seemes to be a zealous Christian. The Church is a principall part of his devotion; and to bee a fre­quent Auditor, or outwardly at­tentiue, is a sure defence (hee thinkes) against capitall errour. [Page 181] Hee is openly kinde-hearted; cries God forbid, Amen, Christ bee his comfort. But rather then hee will seeme a Puritan, with indifferent companions, hee can breake an obscoene Iest, bee wanton, sociable, or any thing, till hee converse with a Preci­sian by whom he hopes to saue: then the eyes roule vpward, the hands be elevated, commisera­ting tearmes bee multiplied, with sighes innumerable: then hee railes against the wicked, whom a little before hee hear­tilie saluted. And after some paraphrase vpon the verse of such an Evangelist, Apostle, or Prophet, hee dismisses the Pu­ritan, that himselfe may laugh in a corner. His minde and me­morie put on the same vizard of greatnesse, which makes him so much incline to the po­sture [Page 182] of weighty labours, that he giues no attention to things o­penly recited, though they actu­ally possesse him. To be imploid therefore for a Noble man, is (to him) an infinite trouble, and begets imployment with all ac­quaintance to discover it: so the bare meanes to make men think hee is much entertained, costs a time equall to his occurrents. Being to bee visited (though by sure Clients) he hath the roome of attendance, the Art of delay, and a visage that seemes pittiful­ly interrupted. If he rides to dis­patch, the horses be early sadled, and brought to the doore, that neighbours may obserue; when, after fiue or sixe houres expe­ctation, hee comes like one that was detained by vrgent importunacies. His best mate­rials to worke vpon, bee Time, [Page 183] and Place; which, if they af­foord circumstance to let you vnderstand his new purchase, his new buildings, the great mar­riage of his children, or enter­tainement of high personages, or bountie towards the Hospi­tall, it comes freely and fitly, if openly. When occasions trouble him a little, he loues to trouble himselfe extreamly; and thinkes it a poynt of [...]eaching policie, to reproue or amend that formally, which hath beene allowed by singular good iugde­ments. If hee dares (with privi­ledge of the hearers ignorance) disparage worth in any, hee takes leaue of the occasion, and his owne policie. This he takes in honor of his courtship to shew he can bee ambitious, and build on others ruines: But this proclaimes him a star­ved [Page 184] Cannibal; who, through the famine of desert, feeds his wor­thinesse with his owne excre­ment of detraction. His desire and audacitie be at open strife. When he would, but dares not commend himselfe, by correct­ing anothers facultie: then with a straind laughter, and a willing palsie in his head, he seemes to discover somwhat is vnsetled; or he makes his elbow signifie, that somthing wants his finger. His complements be at liberty, his friendship lies locked vp in pri­son; the key whereof he hath lost willingly. For if you call him friend before hee hath wrested the advantage of an enemy, hee leaues you destitute, but more happy then you be­leeue. If hee can seeme to for­get your countenance, hee in­tends that you must thinke him [Page 185] deuoted to things aboue you, or that his braine labours: and vp­on this ground he walkes when he neglects your salutations, or takes no notice of your person. Briefly, he is a man of this daies profit; he expects nothing with­out double interest, and that by compulsion. Hee is a weake foe, a weaker friend, or the generall shadow of a wiser man.

CHARAC. XIII. A Spend-thrift

IS a man euer needy, neuer satis­fied, but ready to borrow more then he may be trust-à with: The question of him will be, whether his learning doth out-ballance his braine, and so becomes a bur­then; or whether both bee crept [Page 186] into his outward senses: Cer­tainely his Intellectuals of wit, and wisedome, be manifest, but are (like the seuen Starres) sel­dome seene together; they mu­tually succeed, as hauing vow'd to gouerne by course: whilst wit reignes, excesse, and royot haue the vpper hand: But when he re­collects himselfe, hee is wholy metamorphosed; wit giues place, and his extreme of wisedome, disclaimes the smile of a merrie countenance. His onely ioy is to domineere, be often saluted, and haue many Creditors: his Lord­ships lie among the Drawers, Tobacco-men, Brokers, and Panders: But aduersity makes him leaue company, and fall to house-keeping, and then his ser­uants be vanished into Serge­ants. His onely flatterers bee Conceite and Fancy, which [Page 187] charge Memory his Steward, to bring in no Accompts till they bee casheerd; which cannot bee whilst Imitation is his Captain, or Credit his Corporall. Hee dreames of being Lord chiefe Iustice, or at least being emi­nent, though hee liues disso­lutely; and hath no Saint but Fortune. Hee is, and euer will be a quarter behind with fruga­lity; in which volume he cannot be perfect, because the booke is imperfect: for he still rendes out the beginning of his lesson. His Heauen vpon Farth, is a faire Mistresse; and though his meanes be l [...]rge, yet his princi­pall sorrow is the lacke of main­tenance. The misery of his sense is an old man, and his fathers life troubles him not a little: Al­manackes therefore which fore­tell the death of age, be very ac­ceptable. The hurly burly of his [Page 188] braine is infinite, and he scarcely knowes what hee may freely make an election of. His worst bawd is too good a nature, which makes him incident to false applauses, and carue his soule out among his famil [...]ars: hee hath multitudes of deere acquaintance, but his deerest friends are ready to stabbe him. For either those whom hee ac­compts so, be men of fashion; or those who be indeed so, de­sire his death, because they see no amendment. He scornes to acknowledge his debts, but as things of duety, with which me­chanicks are (as he thinkes) bound to vphold high birth and Gentry: but the end proues otherwise. His downefall there­fore is not admired, because hee was euer falling; and his bare ex­cuse, makes experience the sha­dow. [Page 189] Briefly, he may seeme a treacherous friend; for he deales dishonestly with all that chal­lenge interest in him; they be his Creditors: And yet hee deales more louingly with them, then with himselfe; for when he paies them, he punisheth himselfe: If he cannot pay, hee is punished more then they; and punished enough, because he cannot pay: for then he consumes.

CHARACT. XIIII. A Vbiquitarie

IS a Iourney-man of all Trades, but no sauer because no s [...]tter vp: He would be an Epitome of Artes, and all things, but is in­deed nothing lesse then him­selfe: If an itchy Tailor gaue [Page 190] him not his making, he had (I thinke) perpetually beene vn­made: For if he scratch his head, the body cals him; if the body, then the elbow; if his elbow, then againe the body; if the bo­dy, then the head itches: so ne­uer quiet, neuer constant, still doing, stil about to do the same, remaines my doer doing no­thing. The worst of dog-daies was his birth-day when fleas abounded, which ( [...]rom his cra­dle) haue so bitten him, as till his death he must be tickled. The worme of giddinesse hath crept into his priuate purposes: euery houre, almost, giues him a new Being, or, at least, the purpose to be an other thing then he is. If a coūtry l [...]fe inuites him he yeelds: the Court request him, he yeelds likewise: but then disgrace auerts him to his study; a Libra­ry [Page 191] is gotten: by this time loue hath strucke him, and hee adores the Saint: But then some play declaimes against this loue; hee quickly is perswaded, and fol­lowes Poetry. Thus my vaga­bond of vanity is from post to pillar transport [...], because hee trauels without a perfect licēce. You shall soone discerne him by his arguments and reasons; They (for the principals) flow from one fountaine of ignorance: for all his proofe depends vpon I thinke so; Euery man saith so: All dislike it: His very conuersation is infectious, but neuer frustrate: for either you must follow him, and that way you must looke to be a looser: or he will follow you, and then resolue that your intētiō thriues but badly. No ob­iect, no society, season, thought, or language, comes amisse, [Page 192] or vnexpected, his pollicy there­fore seekes to be rather frequent then effectuall; to run about the world daily, then trauell seri­ously; to see a multitude, be­fore society; and gesse at much, rather then know a little. In his discourse hee daunces All Trades; and flies from field to thicket, as being hunted by an Ignis fatuus. Talke of Acade­mies, and hee tels you Court­newes; canuase the state of your question, and hee tels you what new booke is extant. If you discourse, hee still desires the conclusion; and is attentiue ra­ther to the sequele, then care­full to vnderstand the premisses. In his behauiour hee would seeme French, Italian, Spanish, or any thing, so he may seeme vn­vulgar; accounting it barbarous not to contemne his owne Na­tion, [Page 193] or the common good; be­cause he loues to bee more va­lued by seeming singularly preti­ous: His habite onely discouers him to be true English: and to be weary of the place, colours his emploiment: To liiie (with him) is all vanity, and that life alone his deerest happinesse: his death therefore may bee somewhat doubtfull, because with it hee hath no Beeing.

CHARAC. XV. A Gamester

IS Fortunes Vassaile, temptations Anuile, or an out-landish text which may soone be translated in­to cheaters English: He affects gaming from a schoole-boy; and superstitiously fore-thinkes how [Page 194] his minde giues him. The ele­ments of fire, earth, and aire, be with him alike predominant; he i [...] in [...]med with rage, melan­choly with thoughts, iouiall with fortune; but hee neuer we [...] in sorrow or repentance: When he looses little, you must [...]now he looses much, for hee loues tha [...] any man should con­iecture he is able: And though his luck be infinite to win aboun­dance, yet could hee neuer haue the luck to purchase. If he quar­rel [...] you may protest hee looses, [...]nd he must scr [...]mble or be bea­ [...]e [...] [...]re hee can bee quiet: if hee make peace you must meet him [...]n the winning way, and then you might more safely swagger with him: he loues his owne ad­uantage well enough to bee a Lawyer, but would make a most preposterous Iudge: The seuen [Page 195] deadly sinnes sleepe in his poc­ket, and he neuer drawes money but the noise awakes them. Pride, Lechery, Drunkennesse, and Gluttony, bee his Sabboth sinnes, which (out of gettings) he employes on Festiuals, and Sundaies. Blasphemy and mur­ther play the Drawers with him, and bring the fearefull recko­ning of his losses; and insteed of Vsury, Theft plaies the Scriuener to furnish him with money: He can both fast, and watch, and yet is farre enough from being a true penitent; for curses fol­lowing, do discouer why the rest was intended. Fortune makes him her most silly States-man: shee holds him by the chinne a while, but ere hee can recouer what he onely wishes, hee sinkes incontinent, and worthily; for losse and gaine alike encourage [Page 196] him, but neuer satisfie. If he plaies vpon Ticket, hee knowes you are but a simple fellow not able to exact, though he resolues to pay nothing; so he did neuer purchase, if not this way, ex­cept he borrowes; and that ex­tends farre enough to make him the debtor at his owne pleasure. If he be perished, his restaurati­on is to famine, though not de­generate; for seeing he was ruind vnder the Goddesse For­tune, he may well claime the portion of a rich widdow. If neither shee, nor any shee-creature else be gratious; let him vnpittied proue a Cheater, for he thrust himselfe to exile, and went to willing bon­dage.

CHARACT. XVI. A Nouice

IS one still ready to aske the way, yet farre from finding it, though you do direct him: He is indeed a simple thing of one and twenty, that dares safely be a pupill to any Tutor. Or take him natu­rally for a familiar kind of Spaniell, that may be readily taken vp, and stolne away from himselfe, or his best resoluti­ons. Hee is euer haunted with a blushing weakenesse, and is as willing to embrace any, as not to be distastfull vnto any: He trusts any mans opinion before his owne, and will commit his life to him that can insinuate; you [Page 198] get acquaintance with him by a bare salutation; drinke to him with a new complement, and you haue purchased his entire loue, till hee bee cheated. The name of Country-man, or ciuill carriage, vnlockes his Cabinet of intentions, till you extract the very quintessence. He can­not chuse but be exceeding cre­dulous, for he confutes nothing further then his eye-sight, or common sense extends. Draw him to the paradise of taking all in good part; or teach him to apprehend the worst things well, by screwing in a meere conceit of your generosity, and he wilthrust the ward-ship of his credit, Lands, or Body, to your patronage: So you may take re­liefe, and tender Marriage, though his father held not in Knights seruice. If you mis­doubt [Page 199] he should perceiue you, or if you thinke it difficult to de­ceiue him; compare his Title with his Index, o [...] both together with his stuffe contained, and you may soone discerne him: For either vnexpectedly he doth betray himselfe; or false fire doth discharge him. Being a little boulstred vp with sweete here­sies of subtill language, and Musicall Tauernes, he suddenly beginnes (except some charita­ble hand reclaimes him) to mi­stake Tobacco for a precious hearbe; and oftentimes I thinke it cures his raw humour, by ope­ration of the price, without the Physicke. You may easily also driue him to mistake brown pa­per for Littletons Tenures; Can­uas, and Red Herrings, for his fathers hoppe-bagges and Lent prouision. I need not say hee [Page 200] will be valorous; for Parasites and Cony-catchers know, he oftentimes can see hee hath beene cheated, and yet his modesty will not suffer him to enforce satisfaction. Hee will much wonder at a tri­uiall euent, and thinkes it Witch-craft to foresee disad­uantage. As for the world, Re­ligion, or naturall causes, he can enquire of them, but difficultly beleeue reason: In the shut­ting vp therfore of his folly he doth confesse the cha­racter, and leaues it to succes­sion.

CHARAC. XVII. An Epicure

IS the picture of Some-body, or a man of two senses: the Eye and the Palate: for his smelling pro­pertie is stuffed with the vapours of a full stomacke; his hands the instruments of his mouth, no senses; and the belly hath no cares, but a trusse to support it: He is his owne Taylor, and thinkes directly that more ex­pences belong to the linings, then to the out-side. He cannot stirre in businesse without a Coach, or a Litter; and then he is suddenly interrupted, if the clocke strikes Eleven. Hee is (whatsoever some think) a good Physitian for his owne body; for he still riseth from the Table [Page 202] with an appetite, and is soone re [...]dy for another meale of dain­ties. If hee bee a Lawyer, the b [...]t meates will soonest corrupt his carkasse, and his conscience: for he feeds immo­de [...]tely, and will doe much for [...] brace of Pheasants. If he bee a Divine, he preaches all charity, and discommends Gentlemen extreamely, because they leaue House-keeping. He thinkes his bed the best study, and therefore speakes wel in the praise of stret­ching meditations. He accounts Cookery a delicate science, and preferres the knowledge of con­fectionary receipts; to which purpose nothing passes through the throate, till he takes particu­lar notice of the ingredients. He is troubled much to thinke, how he may most readily shorten his life, and not perceiue the reason: [Page 203] Therefore he revolues continu­ally, what may be most conveni­ent for the tast, and hurtfull for the stomake. He invites himselfe to much provender by accident of visitation; though hee comes with a resolved policie: and hee provokes many solemne mee­tings, vnder the title of Hospita­litie, when hee makes himselfe (by these meanes) fitter for an Hospitall. Hee is contented to bestow broken meate among poore folkes, but no money: for he loues not to depart with that, in which himselfe hath beene no taster. He is the noted foe of fa­mine, and yet he is daily imploi­ed about the procreation of a dearth: for the value of nothing is beyond his abilitie, if he hath present money, though no more then enough to discharge the present commoditie; or credite [Page 204] to make men trust vpon execu­tors. Hee hath heightned the price of out-landish-fruits, and hath purchased the generall name to our Countrey of Sweet­mouth'd English-men. Marrow­pies, Potato-rootes, Eringoes, and a cup of Sacke be his chie­fest Restoratiues, and comforta­ble Physicke: He makes no din­ner without a second course. He is over-ruled more by his teeth, then his appetite: for when they grow weary, he leaues feeding, and falles to drinking: which ar­gues (vnlesse I mistake) a larger capacity of Stomack then Vnder­standing. He keeps a principall poynt of statelinesse in carriage; for he delights rather in a sub­till flatterer, or secretary, that giues good el-bow attendance, then to heare himselfe discourse, or any who neglects to feed his [Page 205] humor; either with commenda­tions, or voiling reverence to his high fortunes, or with licen­tious fables, and derisions of his opposites. If dinner bee ended, and you desire to converse with him, you must tarry till he be a­wake: for his vast chaire, a dow­ny couch, and chiefly a fine capa­ble seat in the Church, that may confront the Preacher, or be si­tuate behinde some pillar, are three easie and common recep­tacles for his full stomack. None resembles death so fitly, yet none makes lesse morall: His sleepe therefore which proues him rotten and stinking aliue, proues rather death it selfe, then a remembrance. Briefly, being true English, hee will abhorre thirst, and hunger, because hee scornes a Spaniard and his pro­perties.

CHARACT. XVIII. A Churle

IS the sup [...]rfluity of solemne beha­uiour: And was intended for an allay to fif [...]y light louiall con­stitutions; but na [...]r [...]n­tendit op [...] mum. Nature being then otherwise employed, hee was (against her will) made a monstrous lump of Humanity; through the negligence of her hand-maids, or the malice of her enemies bad education and nutriment. Hee is the vnsocia­ble sonne of Saturne, that lookes strangely at the face of man, as if hee were another thing then himselfe. He thinkes, to be fami­liar is to betray himselfe; and that the world might plentiful­ly be inhabited, by him onely, and a couple of drudges. If you be ciuill, he saith you are phan­tastick; [Page 207] and friendly language he termes flattery. No estate, no aduancement, can remoue his humour: for hee doth not liue (whilst he liues not disconten­ted) but sleepes, or counterfeits. He thinkes salutations were or­dained to beguile, or betray; hee loues not therefore to salute, or be saluted. Hee will refuse gifts, that come from reconciled foes, and thinkes an iniury can neuer be forgotten. On equall termes likewise, he is heartily vnwilling to receiue, except (in glory) he can ouer-value his deserts, by thinking he hath deserued tenne times more. A selfe-respect, and a disdaine of others, be his nou­rishing vices: So he chuses ra­ther to loose a bargaine, then to become a debtor; for he holds it more honour and pollicy to steale, then to be beholding. If [Page 208] you enquire his health, or the times newes, hee dares protest you are an impertinent, or a shallow companion. Other mens triumph is his sorrow, o­ther mens sorrow his triumph: for in his conscience he hath re­ioyced never, if not in mis-for­tunes of some, or all. His owne adversitie quickens him to re­ioyce at others misery. He can­not therefore bee saved, seeing he admits company as a delight, in nothing but desolation: and then, not their company, but their passion. His entertainments be, a fierce dogge to bid you wel­come, a currish voyce to con­firme it, and the way is open for a fare-well. The two first be appa­rant, the latter hee intends: So doth he embrace acquaintance or neighbours; but impotent people he threatens in another [Page 209] kinde with Whippe, stockes, and Beadle, they onely be his famili­ars and defenders. His Dogge, and hee, are the onely good fel­lowes; and his dogge proues the better man, by being more tra­ctable. He will prevent you in a commoditie, and giue more; as also, hee dares discredit any thing, or any, not with a mea­ning to commend his owne, but to endammage others. He will bee shaven all wayes to the best helpe of a deformitie: and though his actions will soone verifie the Character, yet he will more mis-shape na­ture by ill-favoured Linnen, a greasie felt, and Garments made for the purpose; as if hee meant to discover himselfe by the fore-head, least hee should not be knowne quickly. He is sa­tisfied vpon the smallest wrong, [Page 210] and will rather take the lawes assignment, though a trifle, then be content with large composi­tion: yet none doth more grum­ble against the Law-professors. He listens to the death of great personages, as a Butchers dogge to the Oxes slaughter; reioy­cing to be glutted with his en­trailes, or vices, seeing hee is not bettred by his body of worth, the best food. It fattens him to heare a prodigalls con­sumption, though hee partakes nothing in the [...]ootie. If you fasten a gift vpon him, his thankes bee liberall, though he doth not requite: if hee doth not brand you with an insinu­ating Title; yet in extremitie of his passion he is so farre (as hee thinkes) from being vncharita­ble, as he makes the charitie of Counsell, Purse, or Assistance, [Page 211] things that would giue little thanke for his labour: and so he practises them vnder the ranke of such things as doe not con­cerne him: He saith therefore, Meddle with me, when I meddle with you. So that if shame pro­vokes his wealth to invite stran­gers, he hath no bountifull mea­ning, but a resolution to liue by broken meate long after, which doth not savour well, except it be mouldy: that, and himselfe there­fore, should be spent sooner; o­therwise they grow visibly odi­ous, but himselfe more odious then that.

CHARAC. XIX. An Atheist

IS no reasonable Man: for hee will sooner embrace a superfi­ciall [Page 212] colour in things of momēt, then search into direct causes: as for obvious and common acci­dents, he never looks vpon them so much with reason, as vpon matters of course. In subtilties he is bestiall; for hee admits no more then event; and he is ther­fore no reasonable man, because no religious man. For Heathens and Barbarians haue from the be­ginning beene worshippers of somwhat. If thou canst seeme to bee familiar with him, and enter into the extremities of ill for­tune, or begin to speake of great mens funerals, or honest mens persecutions, hee will instantly discover what he beleeues, being bold enough to speak plainly (if thou canst apprehend) that ver­tue, innocence, and craftie dea­ling be alike rewarded: that wic­ked and religious men haue no [Page 213] difference but the Name: that wrongs may lawfully (if without danger apparant) bee repelled with worse wrongs: and that therefore it argues basenesse of spirit, to contemne any opportu­nity of advantage: that expecta­tion of other, where ioy is al­ready present, were dotage, or madnesse; and that honesty, which exceeds common forme, is singularity. From which Ar­guments you may draw the con­clusion. If he reserues these pre­cepts among strangers, his pra­ctise will verifie the paterne. Take this for a foundation, Euery Atheist is an Epicure, though the one is not controvettible. If he inclines more to Epicurisme then policie; this watch-word will be frequent in his cups, hoc est vive­re, hoc est vivere. But you may stil obserue, that he cōtends to wash [Page 214] away all care with company, dis­course & laughter, as if he knew his vsurious creditor (a guiltie conscience) waited to expostu­late with him at an advantage. One therefore of this proporti­on, is more liable to the Law, but lesse dangerous to the com­mon-wealth. Hee brings most villany that feeles the disease in­ward; and confutes his own ob­iectiōs with falacious doctrines. He liues much about the fountain of Iniquitie, and therfore he must propound that those streames of custome be tolerable, or leaue his profession. He hath a natural flourish for super-naturall acci­dents. He turnes Diuinity into colorable inuentions of Philosophy. He knows every thing vnder the name of a naturall body: hee be­leeues Nature to be an invisible power, which intended genera­tion [Page 25] for corruption, and corrup­tion for generation. He distin­guishes bodies into simple and compound, and makes creation a vulgar proiect obedient to the harmony of elements. Then, if he knowes the meaning of Homoge­nea, and Hetrogenea, of corpus im­perfctè mixtū, and perfectè mixtū, he remaines largely satisfied. As for the causes of terrible events, he apprehends the power of Ex­halations, Meteors, Comets, & the Antiperistasis: which very names are able to forbid all further in­quisition. He goes not therfore beyond himselfe for his authori­ty: and he esteemes it more con­venient to think there is a reason in nature, then to trouble his braine with miracles, when they exceed his positions. Hee never was taken for a friend in society, neither can he bestow loue, be­cause [Page 216] cause hee cannot adventure his person. If at any time hee inten­ded loue, he intended likewise a Physitian; and him, no further then agreed with his owne humi­dum radicale: which must also be vnderstood, if himselfe were no Physitian. He is alwayes consi­dent beyond reformation. Hee dies with hope betweene his iawes, and therefore one may thinke him no desperate slaue; but such hope deceiues him, be­cause he hopes to liue longer.

CHARACT. XX. A Lyar

IS a tame Foxe; hunted vp and down, often for pleasure, often against his will. Arithmetick is in him a natural vice, or at least the principall parts of the Science: for he can both substract & mul­tiply [Page 217] with more ease then speake true English: He may as well be a Trades-man of any sort by his professiō, [...]s a Knight of the post, or a man-pleaser. He should (by his qualities) be a good Game­ster; for the one is iust in league with a voluntary ignorance, or a­ny inforced knowledge, as much as the other: Hee neuer offends this way, but he offends double; for he cannot with credit, or knowledge of the Art Military, thinke it sufficient to defend with bare affirmance, & the wals of circūuention, except his cannō ­othes be ready planted and dis­charged. He is not guilty of his own vice alone; for seldom doth he auouch it, which his confede­rate wil not iustifie: & therfore he prouides adherents for security: his cōmō misery is wel known, it persecuts him with diuine iustice [Page 218] for all his truth'is extraordina­rie, winne no beleife; because no false-hoods are so frequent. Any aduantage accruing to himselfe prouokes his faculty; though sometimes a friends loue intices him to strange aduentures. If neither the first nor second bee opportune, he so labours onely to beget wonderfull narrations. Hee is ready enough to ouer­value himselfe, his friends, and his commodity: accounting it a pollitick straine to set an excel­lent faire glosse on all; that hee may purchase the reputation of a large estate: Which seemes to argue an innocent vpright course, not fearing tyranny: But indeed he doth (from hence) de­ceiue the world and die a beg­gar, through the foregoing esti­mation. Hee tels no wonder, without some preparatiue: as [Page 219] namely, he admits before hand what may be: or he begins thus: You may thinke it is a lie: or, it will seeme strange, but I protest before God, it is very true: or the like: But if hee bee one that maintaines Ordinaries and pub­lick meetings; he speakes alto­gether vpon credible report; and you shall be the third man partakes of the nouelty: for hee hath alwaies talked with one, that was an eye-witnesse: if hee were not himselfe the agent or beholder. He may at his electi­tion be admitted into the Col­ledge of Iesuites, but hee loues not to forsake his Country, though he boasts of trauailes; and yet he is a meere fugitiue. He was originally intended for a Rhetorician; and lackes onely a little instruction: For hee is more conuersant with Tropes [Page 220] then Figures; and yet the figure of repetition, is his owne natu­rall. Attention makes thee very much culpable in his reports: beliefe makes thee apt to erre in the same kind. He is more confi­dent (if hee could be vncased) in the rare exploits of Rosaclere, and Delphoebo, Amadis de Gaule, or Parismus, then the most ho­ly Text of Scripture. If hee should striue for Antiquity, no English Generation can com­pare with him: And yet hee needes no Herald, for hee deriues his Pedigree immediately from the deuill.

CHARACT: XXI. A Drunkard

IS in Opinion a good fellow, in practice a liuing conduit. Hee is at all points armed for a Knight errant, and cald vpon for aduen­tures, euery way as full of ha­zard. This makes him enter bold­ly into the Lyons, or the Greene Dragons Caue; into the White Beares iawes, the Mermaids closets, the Sunnes Palace; nay, more into the deuils chamber of presence. And for his Trauailes let the Globe witnesse; through euery corner of which, he hath or can walke at his pleasure. Freedome hee challenges, and therefore scornes to be a te­dious customer, till by enforce­ment, hee drinkes vpon record: [Page 222] otherwise he shifts his watring place; either to auoid his lowse, the Baylife; or to renew his foun­taine: the last onely pleades for his commendation, because hee proceedes still from worse to better: which discommends him most, because it nourishes his facultie. The torment of his eye­sight is a frothy Tapster, or a sluggish Drawer with a deceit­full po [...]. The plagues of his pa­lat be good wines, where he can­not purchase, nor be trusted: or a Taverne well furnished, that ioynes to the prison doore: they vexe him, as a feast vexes the fa­mished, in a strong Castle: or a Lambe the starued Foxe, when Mas [...]ifes be awake. He never dis­allowes religion for putting Lent in the Almanack: for Tobacco, a Rasher, and red Herrings, his instruments of relish, bee at all [Page 223] times perhibited. Hee hath a cheape course of breake-fasts, to auoide dinners; which at his pleasure he can spare, through morning Antidotes: the inquisi­tion of these he studies, and loo­ses by the knowledge. Hee in­differently concludes, and be­ginnes quarrels: that quality neither much blames nor prai­ses him. Opportunity hee em­braces, but in a bad sense: for he is rather studious to follow any mans calling then his owne. His nose the most innocent, beares the corruption of his o­ther senses folly; From it may bee gathered the embleme of one falsely scandald: for it not offending, is [...]olourably puni­shed. It serues therefore for no­thing but such an Embleme, ex­cept to proue the owners great innocence, by how much it is [Page 224] the greater: His eminent see­ming vertues be his peculiar vi­ces: For his casting vp expen­ces, and his wisedome ouer the pot, be his vnthriftinesse, and folly: Hee were vtterly base, if vnable to defend his habite: you shall therefore know him by his arguments. If hee inclines to Scholler-ship, they be these: First, to abandon melancholy; For care, hee faith, kils a Cat: then to auoide mischieuous thoughts; for hee that drinkes well, sleepes well, and hee that sleeps well thinks no harme: The weaknes of which may be soone confuted, because he staggers in the argument. His teeth be strongest, because least employ­ed. Hence you [...]ay take the em­bleme of one truely miserable; who abounds in profites, which he doth not vse. A beggar, and [Page 225] he are both of one stock, but the beggar claimes antiquity: the beggar did drinke that he might beg, & hath his meaning: the o­ther drinkes that he may beg, & shal haue the true mening short­ly. In the degree of beggars it is thought he wil turne Dummerer; he practises already, & is for that purpose many times taken speechlesse. If he goes out in the morning a libertine or free-man, he returns at night a prisoner, if he doth return: for he cannot re­turne safely without his keeper: otherwise, he converts suddenly frō flesh to fish, & diues into the mud, or swims in his own water. These together proue fasting­nights to be his naturall season. Whilst he is waking, he purges all secrets; least I therefore by keeping him awake longer, should erre in the same kinde, [Page 226] I haue now cast him into a dead sleepe.

CHARAC. XXII. A Begging Scholler

IS an Artificiall vagabond: Hee tooke his first degree (as wee may imagine) in the Vniuersity: But he neuer thinkes himselfe a full Graduate; till by Cosmogra­phicall science, he suruey the de­grees of Longitude, and Lati­tude, belonging to most of our famous Citties in England: So he becomes practitioner in the Mathematickes, though hee pretends Diuinity by order of Commencement, which might bee a safe licence among diuers; if the Statute vouchsa­fed not to take notice of his roguery. He hath from the first [Page 227] houre of his Matriculation in­herited the name of Sharke, by way of a generall dependance in the Colledge: But being per­haps expulsed, or departing in a hungry humor, he trauels with a prompt memory, insteed of other knowledge; and aboue all things he is wise enough for himselfe, to remember his wants. Hee neuer looked into Diuinity beyond the meaning of two Sermons; and vpon those he hath insisted so often, that he feeles no need of another Li­brary: He still pretends (like some single Physitian) the cure of one disease, that is, the cold of charity, and therefore (his charitable aduise being ended) a bill of receipt followes for the ingredients: But the dis­ease may be thought to grow more desperate through the [Page 228] mistaken cure; because the me­dicine is applied vnfitly. His helpe extends farre and neere to fugitiue Raga-muffians, vn­der the signe of impotent soul­diers, or wandring Abraham­men; but his helpe proues the maintenance of their functi­on, because it proues his owne, by occasion: For being recei­ued as a Secretary to the coun­sell of vagrants, hee conceals much idle property, in aduan­tage of himselfe and Country­men, not of the common­wealth. If you would priuate­ly know him; you must know likewise, the iourney to his friends hath beene tediously vn­dertaken; and whilst hee brings his mony in question, you must know he begges for an answere, and so betrayes the doubt of suf­ficiency: howsoeuer (in pub­lick) he insinuates a depriuation; [Page 229] by being too sufficient. Being admitted (for Hospitality sake) to receiue lodging; he hath a slight of hand, or cleanely con­ueiance, which threaten siluer spoones; and leaues a desperate sorrow among all the houshold seruants, because he departed so soone. In the space of a naturall day he seldome trauailes further then to the next Ale-house; that so by degrees he may approach to a great Market vpon the Sab­both. He paies for what he takes continually, one way or other: for being no customer, he can­not bee trusted, except in case of necessity; and then he paies them experience to beware of such as he another time. He hath learning to propound the Apostles presi­dent for trauailes, but conscience litle enough to look any further. If his family be not portable, [Page 230] it comes in the rereward, and awaites his returne to the Rende­vouze: if otherwise he be attēded with neither wife, nor maide­seruant; he makes vse of both, as hee finds himselfe able: Hee is sometime inducted by a simple Patron, to some more simple Vicarage; But his Tithes and Credit concluding in Haruest, he takes his slight with the Swal­low: He cannot therefore thriue among the promo­ted begging Schollers, because hee hath no continuance. (* * *) (⸫)

The second Booke of Characters.

CHARACT. I. A Iaylor

IS the beggars body­lowse, which liues vpon the bloud and carcase of thē which can worst spare any: He proceeds commonly from such a one, as could not gouerne himselfe, to gouerne others im­periously: He cannot thinke of a place, more sutable with the safe practise of his villany: No, not among the roarers, or the com­pany [Page 232] of quack-saluers: a thiefe, & a Murtherer, be the names which make him iron mad, whiles him­selfe proues the more exquisite offender: and if formerly he hath bin infamous among al, it proues felicity with him now to insult o­ver some, & growes the more im­placable. At his first inductiō, he begins (like al new Officers) to re­form methodically: Neither doth he spare to diuulge (with oftenta­tion) the marrow of his deerest policies: He may very wel seeme a bountiful Host, for he detaines his customers whether they will or no: but his bounty retireth, whē he looseth aduantage. He is a true Alchymist, no dreamer in that science: nor the best profici­ent hath thriu'd better in his pro­iections: He doth indeed famili­arly (by vertue of his stone-wals, without the Philosphers stone) cōuert rusty Iron into perfect sil­uer: [Page 233] He makes men beleeue, that the poore captiues shall work in daily labor to get a liuing: whiles his coniecture is verified in their nightly labor, Liuing lice. by working throgh the enclosure; or being idle they get liuings too many: If he per­ceiues an opē obiect of increase, he wil himselfe work the meanes of disorder by plētiful liquor, that so a large fine may redeeme the quarrell: To which purpose he doth sophisticate his fuming Beere, to breed a skirmish the sooner: & then the dungeon is a dreadfull word, vntill a cōpetent bribe pacify his humor. Nothing makes him so merry as a harsh mittimus, & a potēt captiue: they come like an inscriptiō with a fat goose against new-yeares-tide: but baile sounds a sorrowfull retrait: as if the inferiour Thiefe should loose a booty by composition: and yet he will take his wiues [Page 234] suretiship for the more extent of liberty, because hee knowes her perfect in the instructions of that Alchymie. Hee is a cir­cumspect companion, and still dreames of an escape: and of a breaking forth hee may well dreame, having so many putri­fied sores in one body; but sel­dome do any escape in his debt, though at their breaking out, they be a weeke behinde: for a­boue one weeke he never trusts; and not so long, vnlesse the for­mer aduantage wil recompence a fortnights arrerages. Briefly, hee is in a manner the Diuels huntsman, who keepes those Beagles either for castigation, because they were not cunning enough, else for amendment of the Chace. For if he sends them forth, they proue Graduates, when they escape the Gallowes. [Page 235] As for himselfe, you may either meet him in the midst of Car­rowses among his Customers, or riding post in melancholy, to re-imparke his wilde runna­gates.

CHARAC. II. An Informer

IS a protected Cheater, or a Knaue in authoritie, licenced by autho­rity: he sprang from the corrup­tion of other mens dishonesty; and meetes none so intricately vitious, but hee can match the paterne: which makes him free of all Trades by the statute: for this giues him a freedome to survey all besides himselfe. He is a fellow as much beholding to his fiue senses, as to his intelle­ctuals: [Page 236] he can diversly imploy all his senses about diverse ob­iects; but commonly they are all occupied about one or two chiefly: the winding vp of a iack is better then musicke to his cares in Lent: the steame of a roasted ioynt attracts his no­strils vnsatiably: the sight of a shoulder of Mutton then feeds his stomacke; but the taste and feeling of it, provokes him to a dreadfull insultation. He is worse then an Otter-hound for a diue-dopping Ale-house-kee­per: and hunts him out vnreaso­nably from his Element of Li­quor; and yet he may seeme rea­sonable honest, for he hearkens readily to a composition. But whilst he consents to saue men harmlesse (vpon tearmes indiffe­rent) he makes open way for a­nother of his coat to incroach vp­on [Page 237] the like premises. Victuallers therefore find no relaxation by his oath or assistance; though they shold meet with more trou­ble, if he did not assist them. Ar­bitremēts be besides his calling: but if he be held sit to be an arbi­bitrator, he will haue a sure hand in the businesse. For if he be tru­sted to keepe the pledge of their reconcilement, the pledge must be his, whilst they are reconciled at their own peril. He comes al­waies with a serious countenāce to deiected Ale-men, and promi­seth restauration with an Exche­quer licence to vex the Iustices: whilst hee takes forty shillings, three pound, or vpward for a sin­gle sub-poena, to defend the Li­quor-man; who incurres new charges by trusting in the appa­rant cousenage. He takes away the relation betwixt a Lawyer [Page 238] and his Client; and makes it ge­nerally extend to the Clearkes in Offices; vnder whose safegard hee hath his Licence seal'd to travaile: a foot-post and he dif­fer in the discharge of their pac­ket, and the payment: for the Informer is content to tarry the next Tearme (perhappes) till a Iudgement. His profession af­foords practisers both great and small; both bucke-hounds and harriers: the essence of both is inquisitiō. But the first is a more thriving and ancient stocke of hatred: for he is a kinde of An­tiquarie: the last is seldome medling with men much aboue him: howsoever, sometimes he is casually the scourge of an ignorant Iustice.

CHARAC. III. Abase Mercenary Poet

IS the most faithfull obsequious seruant of him that giues most: he subscribes his definition to all Dedicatory Epistles. If mo­ther-wit raisd him to be a wri­ter, he shewes himselfe a duti­full Childe, and begges Poems in defence of Nature: neither can hee choose but betray him­selfe to be a cosset, by his odde frisking matter, and his Apish Titles: which may perswade any reasonable man, that he studies more to make faces, then a de­cent carriage. If he haue learnt Lillies Grammer, and a peece of Ouids Metamorphosis, he thinkes it time to aske his patrons bles­sing with some worke that sa­vours [Page 240] very much of the authors meaning, and two or three La­tine sentences. If he hath seene the Vniversity, and forsaken it againe, because he felt no deserts which might chalenge a benefa­ctor: then he calles every man (besides his patron) a despiser of learning, and he is wonder­full angry with the world; but a brace of angels will pacifie his humour. If hee be an expulsed Graduate, hee hath beene con­versant so long with rules of Art, that hee can expresse nothing without the Art of begging, or publicke sale: but commonly hee is some swimming-headed Clarke, who after he hath spent much time in idle Sonners, is driven to seeke the tune of Sil­ver, to make vp his consort. Necessity and covetous hire, bribe his invention, but cannot [Page 241] corrupt his conscience: for though hee vndertakes more then hee is able, yet hee con­cludes within expectation of o­thers that know him, and so hee deceiues himselfe onely. Hee will never forfeite his day to necessitie, if hee writes by ob­ligation; but hee never payes backe the principall to his Au­thour: which happens divers times when hee is the Scriue­ner and the Debtor: for the tide of one Pamphlet beeing vented at his elbowes, with leaning vpon Taverne-tables; hee tyes himselfe to certaine limites; within which pre­cinctes hee borrowes much, translates much, coynes much, converting all to his pro­iect: and if matter failes, hee flyes vpon the Lawyer, or flat­ters his obiect: but hee never [Page 242] becomes so excellent, that the Creditor of his invention, may thinke it a dignitie to haue had such a Debtor: and there­fore hee payes backe nothing. His Apologies discover his shifting cousenage: For he at­tributes the vices of his quill to the Ages infirmitie; which endures nothing but amorous delights, close bawdry, or mirth­full studied Iests: As if the ig­norance of any Age could hin­der a wise mans propositions. Hee is a Traded fellow, though hee seemes a Scholler: but is never free of the Company, or accepted, till hee hath drunke out his Apprentise-hood a­mong the grand Masters, and then with an vnivocall con­sent, hee may commend his Wares, turne them into the fashion, and dresse over [Page 243] his old Pamphlets, to incroach vpon the buyer. He presumes much vpon absolute good meanings, though the Text bee palpable: and yet where hee commends himselfe best, hee is not refractorie: for hee still promises amendment, or some more voluminous worke, to gratifie his Benefactors; but hee could never liue long e­nough to finish his miracles. But hee is much indebted to the favour of Ladies, or at least seemes to haue been gra­ciously rewarded: if he affects this humour, hee extolls their singular iudgement before he meddles with his matter in question: and so selles himselfe fictitiously to the worlds o­pinion. If his handes bee no more actiue then his head, hee is guiltie of many a good [Page 244] Scribes idlenesse, by making that legible, which (before Trans-scription) might haue been tolerable folly. If you be therefore an honest, or gene­rous Patron, suffer him not to bee printed.

CHARAC. IIII. A common Player

IS a slow Payer, seldome a Pur­chaser, never a Puritan. The Statute hath done wisely to ac­knowledge him a Rogue: for his chiefe Essence is, A day­ly Counterfeite: Hee hath been familiar so long with out-sides, that hee professes himselfe, (beeing vnknowne) to bee an apparant Gentleman. But his [Page 245] thinne Felt, and his Silke Stockings, or his foule Linnen, and faire Doublet, doe (in him) bodily reveale the Broaker: So beeing not suta­ble, hee proues a Motley: his minde obseruing the same fa­shion of his body: both con­sist of parcells and remnants: but his minde hath common­ly the newer fashion, and the newer stuffe: hee would not else hearken so passionatly af­ter new Tunes, new Trickes, new Devises: These together apparrell his braine and vnder­standing, whilest hee takes the materialls vpon trust, and is himselfe the Taylor to take measure of his soules liking. If hee cannot beleeue, hee doth coniecture strongly; but dares not resolue vpon particulars, till he hath either spoken, or heard [Page 246] the Epilogue; vnlesse he be pre­vented: neither dares hee enti­tle good things Good, vnlesse hee bee heartned on by the Multitude: till then, hee saith faintly what hee thinkes, with a willing purpose to recant or persist: So howsoever he pre­tends to haue a royall Master, or Mistresse, his wages and de­pendance proue him to bee the servant of the people. The cautions of his iudging hu­mour (if hee dares vndertake it) bee a certaine number of lying iests against the common Lawyer; hansome conceits a­gainst the fine Courtiers; de­licate quirkes against the rich Cuckold a Cittizen; shado­wed glaunces for good inno­cent Ladies and Gentlewomen; with a nipping scoffe for some honest Iustice, who hath once [Page 247] imprisoned him: or some thrif­tie Trades-man, who hath al­lowed him no credit: alwayes remembred, his obiect is, A new Play, or A Play newly revi­ved. Other Poems hee admits, as good fellowes take Tobac­co, or ignorant Burgesses giue a voyce, for company sake; as things that neither maintaine, nor bee against him. Hee can seeme no lesse then one in ho­nour, or at least one mounted: for vnto miseries which perse­cute such, hee is most incident. Hence it proceedes, that in the prosperous fortune of a Play frequented, hee proues immo­derate, and falles into a Drun­kards paradise, till it be last no longer. Otherwise when adversi­ties come, they come toge­ther: For Lent and Shroue­tuesday bee not farre asunder: [Page 248] then hee is deiected daily and weekely: his blessings be nei­ther lame nor monstrous; they goe vpon foure legges; but moue slowly; and make as great a distance betweene their steppes, as betweene the foure Tearmes. If he marries, hee mistakes the Woman for the Boy in Womans attire, by not respecting a diffe­rence in the mischiefe. But so long as hee liues vnmarried, he mistakes the Boy, or a Whore for the Woman; by courting the first on the stage, or visiting the second at her devotions. Take him at the best, he is but a shifting companion; for he liues effectually by putting on, and putting off. If his profession were single, hee would thinke himselfe a simple fellow, as hee doth all professions besides his [Page 249] owne: His owne therefore is compounded of all Natures, all Humours, all professions. Hee is politick enough to perceiue the Common-wealths doubts of his licence, and therefore in spight of Parliaments or Sta­tutes he incorporates himselfe by the title of a Brother-hood. I need not multiply his character; for boyes and euery one, will no sooner see men of this Faculty walke along, but they will (vn­asked) informe you what hee is by the vulgar denomination.

CHARAC. V. A Warrener

IS an earthly minded man: Hee plucks his liuing frō the earths bowels: and therfore is his mind [Page 250] most conuersant about that ele­ment: He liues in a little Arce­nall or Watch-tower, being well prouided with Engines and Artilery: with which (like another tyrant) he doth encoun­ter the enemies of his Inhabi­tants; that he may engrosse them all the more entirely: And yet in some respects he is a good Go­uernour, for he delights more in the death of an enemy, then six subiects: The reason is apparant, for one foe is able to destroy twenty of his Vassailes; and so his gaines be preuented: There­fore a Pole-cat and he be at con­tinuall variance: yet he is chari­table and mercifull, for if the Pole-cat turne Ferret and obey him, none agree better: Hee doth Waive much spoile by his mid-night watches, and yet he owes no Lord-ship: The truth [Page 251] is, tumblers, nets, and other traffick do escheate to him, al­though the owner be liuing. He verifies the prouerbe of plenty, as the more he hath, the more he doth desire: for though his owne ground be full of bree­ders, yet he cannot forbeare to haue his hand in priuate War­rens. Hee is much, and most perplexed, because pales and hedges will not keepe his Cat­tell in compasse: if he cannot therefore compound with the neighbours adiacent, he hath a trick to affright those that trans­gresse their limites, by scattering murtherd captiues (as Pole-cats, and Weasels) in their places of refuge: And this is a deepe quil­let in the profession: Besides this, he hath little knowledge of moment, except the science of making Trappes: or circumuen­tion [Page 252] of innocent dogs to feed vermine: The chiefe petition of his prayer, is for blacke frosts, Sunne-shine weather, and calme mid-nights: vnder the protection of the last, he walkes fearelesse, with a pike-staffe, to exercise the liberty of that sea­son among other mens backe­sides: Where he hath many night-spels, to the hazard of much Pullen, and indeed all things thieue-able; if he doth not play the valiant Foot-man, and take tribute of passengers: Neither is he worthy to be such a dealer with nets and Cony­catchings, if he could not intrap the Kings subiects. I make no question therfore that he is wor­thy of his profession: Howsoeuer sometimes he is catcht in a pit­fal of liquor by his companions: whilst they perhaps being Poul­terers, [Page 253] proue tyrannicall substi­tutes, and rob his possessions: but in reuenge, hee doth often en­croach vpon the Poulterers like­wise with a drunken bargaine.

CHARAC. VI. A Huntsman

IS the leiutenant of dogs, and foe to Haruest: He is frolick in a faire morning fit for his plea­sure; and alike reioyceth with the Virginians, to see the rising Sun: He doth worship it as they; but worships his Game more then they: And is in some things al­most as barbarous. A sluggard he contemnes, & thinks the resting time might be shortned; which makes him rise with day, obserue [Page 254] the same pace, and proue full as happy; if the day be happy. The names of Foxe, Hare, and Bucke, be all attracting sillables; suffici­ent to furnish fifteene meales with long discourse in the ad­uentures of each. Foxe, drawes in his exploits done against Cubbes, Bitch-foxes, Otters, and Badgers: Hare, brings out his encounters, plat-formes, en­gines, fortifications, and night­worke done against Leueret, Cony, Wilde-cat, Rabbet, Weasell, and Pole-cat: Then Bucke, the Captaine of all, pro­uokes him (not without strong Passion) to remēber Hart, Hind, Stagge, Doe, Pricket, Fawne, and Fallow Deere. He vses a dogged forme of gouernement, which might bee (without shame) kept in Humanity; and yet he is vnwilling to be gouer­ned [Page 255] with the same reason: either by being satisfied with pleasure, or content with ill fortune. Hee hath the discipline to marshall dogs, and sutably; when a wise Herald would rather meruaile, how he should distinguish their coates, birth, and gentry. Hee carries about him in his mouth the very soule of Ouids bodies, metamorphosed into Trees, Rockes, and Waters: For when he pleases, they shall eccho and distinctly answere; and when he pleases, be extreamely silent. There is little danger in him to­wards the Common wealth: for his worst intelligence comes from Shepheards or Wood­men; and that onely threatens the destruction of Hares; a well-knowne dry meate. The Spring and he are still at variance; in mockage therefore, and reuenge [Page 256] together of that season, he weares her liuery in Winter. Little consultations please him best; but the best directions he doth loue and follow, they are his dogs: If hee cannot pre­uaile therefore, his lucke must be blamed; for he takes a speedy course. He cannot be lesse then a conquerour from the begin­ning, though he wants the boo­ty; for he pursues the flight. His Man-hood is a crooked sword with a saw backe; but the badge of his generous valour is a horne to giue notice. Battery and blowing vp, hee loues not: to vndermine is his Stratageme. His Physick teaches him not to drinke sweating; in amends whereof, he liquors himselfe to a heate, vpon coole bloud; If hee delights (at least) to emu­late his dog in a hot nose. If a [Page 257] kennell of hounds passant take away his attention and compa­ny from Church; do not blame his deuotion; for in them con­sists the nature of it, and his knowledge. His frailties are, that he is apt to mistake any dog worth the stealing, and neuer take notice of the Collar. Hee dreames of a Hare sitting, a Foxe earthed, or the Bucke cou­chant: And if his fancy would be moderate, his actions might be full of pleasure.

CHARACT. VII. A Falkoner

IS the egge of a tame Pullet, hatcht vp among the Hawkes and Spaniels. Hee hath in his mi­nority conuersed with Kestrils, [Page 258] and yong Hobbies; but grow­ing vp he begins to handle the sure, & look a Fawlcō in the face. All his learning makes him but a new Linguist; for to haue studi­ed and practised the termes of Hawkes Dictionary, is enough to excuse his wit, manners, and humanity. He hath too many Trades to thriue; and yet if hee had fewer, hee would thriue lesse: Hee need not bee enuied therfore, for a Monopolie, though he be Barber-surgeon, Physitian, and Apothecary, before he com­mences Hawk-leech: for though he exercise all these, and the Art of Bow-strings together, his patients be compelled to pay him no further, then they bee able. Hawkes be his obiect, that is, his knowledge, admiration, labour, and all: they be indeed his idoll, or mistresse, be they [Page 259] Male or Female: to them he consecrates his amorous Dit­ties, which be no sooner framed then hallowed: Nor should he doubt to ouercome the fairest, seeing he reclaimes such Hag­gards; and courts euery one with a peculiar Dialect. That he is truely affected to his Sweet­heart in her fether-bed, appeares by the sequele; himselfe being sensible of the same misery: for they be both mewed vp toge­ther: But he still chuses the worst pennance; by chusing ra­ther an Ale-house, or a Cellar, for his moulting place, then the Hawkes mew. He cannot bee thought lesse then a spie, and that a dangerous one: For his espials are, that hee may see the fall of what he persecutes: and so the Wood-cocks perish: If they do not, his Art is suspended. He [Page 260] is a right busy-body, who inter­meddles so much with others affaires, that he forgets his own. He would not else correct his Hawkes wildnesse; and be so rea­dy to trample downe the stan­ding corne; or make way through enclosures: That argues him to be Rebellious, & Vulgar; one apt to striue for liberty. His Man-hood I dare not signifie, it remaines doubtfull vpon equall tearmes, because, seldome tried with any thing but wild-fowle: and then he performes water-seruice; per­haps sea-seruice; but both in some fowle manner: By Land he serues, on horse or foot; on both, to destroy Partrige, or Pheasant. There is no hope of his rising, though he doth ex­cell; for he rather seekes to make others ambitious of rising, then himselfe: and therefore though [Page 261] he frames wings with Daedalus, he therby makes his Hawke one­ly ambitious: Yet if any shall (by coniecture) take a flight from Paules Steeple; hee will (I suppose) as soone as any. I had rather (in the meane time) take his word then his oath; for when he speakes without an oath, he is not troubled with the passion of his Curres, or Haggards; and therefore cannot so well excuse it, if he breakes his promise. As for Religion, she is a bird of too high a wing; his Hawkes cannot reach it, and therefore not Hee: And if hee flies to heauen, it is a better flight, then any hee hath commemended: There, I med­dle not with him; thither he must carry himselfe: for I can neither condemne, nor saue him.

CHARACT. VIII. A Farmer

IS a concealed commodity: his worth or value is not fully knowne till he be halfe rotten, and then he is worth nothing: he hath Religion enough to say, God blesse his Maiesty; God send peace, and faire weather; So that one may picke Haruest out of him to be his time of happines: but the Tith-sheafe goes against his conscience; for he had ra­ther spend the value vpon his Reapers and Plough-men, then bestow any thing to the mainte­nance of a Parson. Hee is suffi­ciently booke-read, nay a pro­found Doctor, if he can search into the diseases of Cattell: and [Page 263] to fore-tell raine by tokens, makes him a miraculous Astro­nomer. To speake good English is more then he much regards; and for him not to contemne all Arts and Languages, were to condemne his owne education. The pride of his house-keeping is a messe of Creame, a Pig, or a greene Goose, and if his ser­uants can vncontrowled finde the high-way to the Cup boord, it winnes the name of a bounti­full Yeoman. To purchase Armes (if he aemulates Gentry) sets vpon him like an Ague: it breakes his sleepe, takes away his stomacke, and he can neuer be quiet till the Herald hath gi­uen him the Harrowes, the Cuckow, or some ridiculous Embleme for his Armory. The bringing vp, and Mariage of his eldest sonne, is an ambition [Page 264] which afflicts him so soone as the boy is borne, and the hope to see his sonne superior, or pla­ced aboue him, driues him to dote vpon the boy in his Cra­dle: To peruse the Statutes and preferre them before the Bible, makes him purchase the credit of a shrewd fellow, and then he brings all aduersaries to compo­sition; and if at length he can discouer himselfe in large Lega­cies beyond expectation, he hath his desire. Meane time, he makes the preuention of a dearth his title, to be thought a good Common-wealths man: And therefore hee preserues a a Chandelors treasure of Ba­con, Linkes and Puddings in the Chimney corner. Hee is quickely and contentedly put into the fashion, if his cloathes bee made against Whitsontide [Page 265] or Christmas day: and then outwardly hee contemnes ap­pearance: he cannot therefore choose but hate a Spaniard like­wise; and (hee thinkes) that ha­tred onely, makes him a loyall subiect: for benevolence and subsidies be more vnseasonable to him, then his quarters rent. Briefly, being a good house-kee­per, hee is an honest man; and so, hee thinkes of no rising higher, but rising early in the morning; and beeing vp, hee hath no end of motion, but wanders in his woods and pa­stures so effectually, that when he sleepes, or sits, hee wanders likewise. After this, he turns into his elemēt, by being too ventrous hot, & cold: then he is fit for no­thing but a checkered graue: howsoever some may think him convenient to make an ever­lasting [Page 266] lasting bridge; because his best foundation hath been (perhaps) vpon wool-packes.

CHARAC. IX. An Hostesse

IS (if beautifull) the abatement of reckonings, or the second course: if a widow, shee is the iourneyes end of a wether-bea­beaten Traveller: if ordinary, she is the seruant & the mistris; but in generall, she is a receiver to all professions, and acquain­ted by experience with cooke­ry, or sluttery. Being invited to her owne provisions, shee pre­pares the way to mitigate her prises, either by exclaiming vp­on the hard times, or insinuating the sublime price of Mutton. [Page 267] She must be pardoned, though she depart before supper is en­ded, or approch when supper is ended; for shee is modestly a­shamed to heare her sinfull rec­konings. She professes the kit­chin, but takes place in the chamber: and having interrup­ted the Guest with a cup of Hear­tily welcome, she signifies his sor­row, though it bee manifest si­lence; shee excuses the atten­dance by variety of guests; and blaming the Maid-servants, she commends herselfe for the sole agent: and you must conceiue amisse of the shambles, or but­ter-market vpon her honesty. Her chiefest knowledge is to di­stinguish vpon the trades of our belly; and though shee con­demnes a Taylor for strengthe­ning his bill with bumbast, stiffe­ning, silke and buttons; yet shee [Page 268] furnishes her owne in the same kinde, with wine, bread, sallets, and cheese; and though she sel­dome abate the price of recko­nings, yet she can giue a morsell of her owne into the bargaine; if that may satisfie. She may ab­horre drunkennesse; but in her owne house conceales it, and re­ceiues the advantage: neither dares she reproue her husbands thirstie humor, least she should loose her libertie; when hee re­signes his power to lazinesse, by which hee was ingendred. Her husbands sloth make her im­ployed proudly; being heartily ambitious of labour, if shee can boast well, that her paines alone keepe her husband and his fa­mily: If her selfe be spunge and corke, she hath a daughter, or a Chamber-maid of Ivy. These and she together make the best [Page 269] of a bad bargaine; and therefore shee affoords no peny-worth which is not the best that can sud­denly be bought for money. She seldome invites cost-free: for she determines to be paid com­monly. If therefore she doth invite, she is a rare woman; nei­ther hath she any thing else to plead raritie. Briefly, shee is a thing of cleane linnen, that is the warrant of her cleanlinesse: She makes the welcome of a new, the farewell of an old Tra­veller. She hearkens ioyfully to the numerous footing of horses; and having, with a quicke ac­cent twise called the Cham­berlaine, she is now bu­sie about dressing supper.

CHARACT. X. A Tapster.

IS an Infernall: the Belzebub of a Sellar, and the very motion of a double Iugge. Hee was ingen­dred by a Drunkards appetite and vrine: for nothing but his desire to fill and emptie, hath bred a Tapster. He striues to be familiar at first sight; but instead of friendship hee retaines the names of Customers: onely be­twixt Brewers men and him, there passes hungry and thirstie loue; consisting of Holland­cheese & rowles in recompence of Bottle-ale, and strong Beere. Drawers and hee liue at vari­ance; for he thinkes the grape a disparragement to malt; and therefore hee incounters Wine [Page 271] even with the smallest Beere he hath, to affright the fortitude of Sacke and Claret with extre­mitie: But (which betrayes his stratagems) he gladly makes the Vintners vessell his vassaile and Renegado. His riches are single, they consist of single money; his profession double, it consists of double Beere: but then his faculties are againe so single, that if he leaues the cellar, hee must begge or steale: for igno­rance and lazinesse haue beene his education. Meane time he is kept from robbery by exchange of single peeces: and yet hee disables himselfe in exchange, vnlesse hee expects nothing by delay. He feeles the same sor­row to heare you discommend his liquor, that hee doth to see you depart. That which a­agrees with a co­uetous mans gain, agrees with his consci­ence; ther­fore what goes a­gainst his profit, goes against his conscience It goes against his conscience to see the cup stand [Page 272] quietly; and against his stomack to see you preferre Mutton be­fore powdred beefe. He hath an ambitious memory, which can­not deceiue him, because hee hath taught it to deceiue others: for his aboundance of memo­ry, and his meaning to get a stocke, labour to beget a super­fluous two-pence in the recko­ning. His braine swarmes with a tempest of bottle-reckonings; which makes him carelesse of hats, least hee should breed an impostume, by inclosing their multitude, else he is afraid least the hot and moyst reckonings he carries in his head, should dissolue his felt; and therfor che goes vncovered: else to shew he reverences the Cellar & weeke­dayes, more then the Church or Sabboth; for then onely hee playes the Turke, and puts on [Page 273] else (which is indeed the reason) he knowes all commers claime his dutie, and therfore he walkes bare-headed to saue a labour. He attributes the scant measure of his Iugge to the Cellars darke­nesse, and his saving nature; but rather then he will iustifie both, he hath a certaine slight of hand to fill the first glasse, and so a­voyds inquisition. All his con­science is, that he dares not cast away Gods good creatures; and therefore he preserues the drop­pings to make a compound. Of his prayers and religion, I nei­ther finde any thing, nor will I leaue any thing written. But I beleeue strongly, that in stead of Praying, he wishes to heare men desirous of Collops and Egges, or red Herrings. And therefore I thinke he should thriue best in a sea voyage; because hee com­mends [Page 274] the relish of meates sea­soned exceedingly. He hath no­thing to commend his litera­ture, but Brachigraphy, or the sci­ence of short writing, which hee practises vpon the barrels head, or behind the doore: the mea­ning whereof hee propounds, but doth not discover the rules. If he dares defend his function in Winter, he must provide an Orator: for he speakes coldly for himselfe, as being troubled with a common hoarsenesse, to betray his vigilance. Briefly, you must imagine him a light fellow, and like the c [...]rke, which swimmes with moysture, is supported with liquor, and tied about the bottle or iugges neck: there, or neere about that, you may finde him personally.

CHARAC. XI. A Lawyers Clarke

IS his Masters right hand, ex­cept hee writes with his left: or the second dresser of Sheep-skinnes: one that can extract more from the parchment, then the Husband-man from the Fleece. He is a weake Gram­marian; for hee beginnes to peirce, before he can construc well: witnesse the Chamber­maid. Neither can you dis­commend him: for his best e­ducation hath beene at a dull Writing-schoole. Hee doth gladly imitate Gentlemen in their garments; they allure the Wenches, and may (perhaps) provoke his Mistresse: but then hee must bee a Customer to [Page 276] Cookes shoppes, and low Or­dinaries, or visite the Broaker, to be-speake Silke stockings; without which hee thinkes Gen­try doth much degenerate▪ pre­suming on which, and his plausi­ble discourse, he dares attempt a mistresse: but if hee chooses worthily, hee feeles himselfe worthily contemned, because hee woes with bawdery in text; and with Iests, or speeches stolne from Playes, or from the common-helping Arcadia. Hee may bee reasonably com­maunded by his maister in at­tendance: but if he rides with a Cloake-bagge, hee thinkes himselfe disgraced behinde his backe. Howsoever, hee is o­therwise a peaceable compa­nion: for as hee continually makes agreement, so himselfe sits quietly, by his owne Em­bleme [Page 277] of meeknesse, the sheeps-skinne; except the itch trou­bles him. You can make no que­stion that he is not ignorant to dispatch readily; for he hath his businesse at his fingers end. Hee may pretend Schollership, but all that is nothing to a Iugglers, who exceedes in the slight of hand; which is the Art of both. Hee trembles therefore alike with all Handicrafts, (though he be most valorous) to thinke he should dare strike in the court: for vpon his Palmes and Fin­gers depend his In-comes. Hee is no vaine Disputant; his knowledge is positiue ingros­sed, and so vpon record. Selfe-conceit in labours, hee refuses: for hee labours about nothing which is not iustifiable by Pre­sidents; either of West, his ma­ster, or a teacher. His Poe­try [Page 278] is meere naturall, if he hath any; that costs him no labour: in carriage, and the rest, hee barely imitates; that labour is worth nothing. Hee is not a­shamed of what he doth: for hee regards not to haue a finger, but a whole hand in the busi­nesse. To which purpose you may see his name subscribed in Court, after sealed and delive­red. Hee doth relye vpon his masters practise, large inden­tures, and a deske to write vp­on. Westminster likewise doth not altogether not concerne him: hee hath a motion thi­ther, and a motion there: thi­ther hee moues by way of in­iunction from his Master: there he moues in the common place of breake-fasts, for reliefe of his stomacke; and if hee can match his breake fast and din­ner [Page 279] without grudging of his stomacke, hee hath his desire. Hee is a follower: for he weares a livery; but no seruant, for hee payes his owne wages. Serving himselfe, he serues God by oc­casion: for whilst hee loues his gaine, and serues his desire of getting, hee hates idlenesse. If his master thriues, hee cannot doe amisse; for hee leades the way, and still rides before; but if hee incline to the consumpti­on of state, hee needes a ma­ster that can thriue in that pra­ctise also, to recover him. Hee is the Sophister, or Solliciter to an Atturney; and from him­selfe hee proceedes to an Atturney: that is his commencement. (* * *)

CHARACT. XII. A meere Atturney

IS a fellow at your command for ten groates, and hath no inheri­tance, but a knavish forme of vn­derstanding. Hee is extreamly graced if he talke with two vel­vet-cloak'd Clients in fiue Tearmes; and desires to salute great Lawyers in view to pur­chase reputation. He is indeed the vpshot of a Lawyers Clarke, and retailes his Learning from Poenall Statutes, or an English Littleton. He is a better commo­ditie to himselfe then Stockefish (being wel beaten) His chiefe in­ventiō is how he may take bribes from both parties, & please both fashionably: how he may cou­sen his friends to all advantage, [Page 281] and giue the glosse of good dealing: if his wickednesse thriues well, he proues a terrible Asse in a Lyons skin: But whilst he out-dares the Eagle, and for­gets himselfe to be a Kastrell, his confidence deceiues him: His Pen and Inke-horne is a spe­ciall propertie; he weares it pen­dant, to expresse his depen­dance: Sub-paenaes, Executi­ons, and all Writs of quarrell be his bond slaues. He doth na­turally exclaime vpon Poets and Players; they are too inquisitiue about his cousonage. He com­mends Diuinity; but makes the professors simple men when they submit to his mercy: He still preferres the authority of a Sta­tute where it makes for his pur­pose (though mistaken) before God and a good conscience. His Religion is the Kings conti­nually: [Page 282] And he would willingly come to C [...]urch on Sundaies if he had ended his Declarations: His chiefe pride is to behaue himselfe better then he is able, and chiefely in deliuering of his charge at Court-leetes, where he assumes much peremptory state, and knowes the audience cannot distinguish where hee stole his lesson: and then though his minde be not in the Dishes, it is in the K [...]tchin. His highest am­bition is an Innes of Court, an old rich Widdow, and the Steward-ship of Leetes, and still hee hopes to be first of his name: Hee loues little manners but where he hopes to saue, and there he plaies the Sycophant. He had rather eate still then wipe his mouth: his Almes bee old S [...]ooes for Broomes, one for another; for without receiuing [Page 283] he neuer giues. His discourse is commonly attended with a Scire facias, and he is ashamed in his heatt when he heares of a cunninger knaue then himselfe. Briefly, indeed hee is a meere Atturney, fit for all turnes that any way enrich his Cofer: for he hath knauery enough to cosen the people, but wit enough to deceiue the gallowes. Howso­euer being too busy about his common baite of lucre (thin­king to snappe at the diuels glow worme) he is catched in his common noose, the Pil­lorie; from whence he is deliuered: but the Hunts-man markes him for for an old bree­der.

CHARAC. XIII. A crafty Scriuener

IS the curse of mans crafty dea­ling, a curious workeman, and may be free of the Locke-smithes, for full of Instruments hee is, and Engines: and makes Ma­nacles for any mans wearing a­boue Twenty One. His first am­bition commonly is to ioyne forces, and make vp his defects of policy, and custome by par­taking in anothers proiects: then doth hee readily aspire to frequented places, a conueni­ent shop, the notice of his neighbours, and to engrosse credit, or some text Widdow, by the nouerint of his Grogren Gowne: A common strumpet neuer fawned so much on yong [Page 285] heire, as hee with flattery ob­serues the Vsurer, and with nice dutifull care to preserue him, makes his rotten hide, the chiefe Indentures that containe his Title. Obligations be his best prayers; for hee cannot tie God to performe conditions, or put in fuertyship: his friend­ship hath a Counter mand of be­ing too honest; which hee will obey, rather then not saue by the bargaine. Hee is the safest man from danger in the pedi­gree of rapines; for first, the gal­lant liues by sale and Country Tenants; the Cittizen by the Gallant; the Scriuener and the deuill vpon both, or all: So nei­ther liues by losse with the Gal­lant, nor vpon trust, with the Citizen: his condemnation is a knot of Seales and their Impres­sion: the first discouer to him a [Page 286] conformed vnity; yet none hath more hand in the procuring of variance. The last discouers a tractable nature, which giues and takes impression. Of the first (that is to giue) he knowes no meaning but when he giues the print of his fist, that it may sticke by elder brothers a whole age: Of the last (that is to take impression) hee knowes none but a wrong meaning: for the best seale that imprints loue in him, is onely the Kings picture; and that loue continues no lon­ger then he beholds it. His quils and instruments betoken peace: you cannot therefore expect more valour in him, then to win ground by the aduantage of weake Prodigals, and such as runne away from thriftinesse: they be most importunate with him: with them hee preuailes [Page 287] most: to them he sels his extor­tious nature at the highest value, because they be most willing to make it their peny-worth. His memory is his owne; another cannot safely trust it in recko­ning the day of payment: for he reckons what he can saue, by renewing the hazard of a se­cond forfeit, not your losse by the first: and so he ouer-reaches you, by ouer-reaching the time, when you trust his memory: which (like an old ridden Iade) lookes not to the Iourneies end but to the baiting place, though he goes further then the iour­nies end: If you trust him there­fore you may feele the forfeite, and pay largely for an acquit­tance. His learning iumps iust with, or fals sometimes short of an Atturnies; being onely able to repeate the afore-said forme [Page 288] to thousand purposes: So all his mistery is indeed nothing to en­crease his Art, but his Policy, or plaine knauery: And that, be­ing serued in, to the worlds ban­quet, represents a large foxes head, and a little Sheepe-skinne in diuers dishes. It is the totall of his Creed, that nothing should bee iustified, or called lawful, which hath not hand and Seale: that makes him exercise Hand and Seale, as the warrant for deuises of his head and Soule. He neuer rayses the spirit of a Prodigall by charmes, but he to­gether rayses the spirit of mam­mon a Citizen, and then this potent coniurer binds them both fast in a Quadrangle. Hee will seeme to know the Statute and common Law; but the con­struction failes commonly (for he looks to his owne aduantage) [Page 291] except the Law hath practised vpon his hearing, to teach the comment when he mistakes the Law. Hauing at length beene a long Auditor to the sweete le­cture of Vsury, hee loues the matter so well, that he becomes proficient, graduate, and pro­fessour in the Science: but after generall profession hee approa­ches quickely to his center (from whence hee sprung) No­thing.

CHARAC. XIIII. A Welch Client

IS a good Iourney-man, if not a good Foot-man: He is the one­ly friend of Lawyers (if they be Welch begotten) and still solli­cites [Page 292] them for a iudgement. His valour is, that hee can by no meanes carry coales; and is therefore euer fittest for an acti­on of the case. When hee ex­presseth (as hee thinkes) his bounty to out braue his aduer­sary before his Counsell, then doth hee rather and indeed ex­presse a waspish nature: The which together with variety of purses, be the best maintenance, if not commencement, of his action. His pride lies wrapt vp in a clout betweene his legges, or in a pocket in the Arme­hole: from thence hee drawes his Angels to feed his Lawy­er, though himselfe sleepe sup­per-lesse. (Howsoeuer) hee is content to bee his owne Cooke; and though his dyet bee slender, yet his mony and victuals lie within a clowtes [Page 293] thickenesse, to proue him able: This might excuse him from a beggarly want of food, but rather detects him of a beg­garly thrift. Hee makes the Tearme his time of pilgrimage, and Offices at Law, the Shrine where hee offers vp his deuotion: Which (after hee hath ended his voyage) a­mounts to voluntary pennance; for hee trauailes bare foote. Though hee bee long in tra­uaile and tarries late, yet no­thing can be recouered by de­fault of apparance: for invn­dations be his perpetuall affida­vit; and they alone are able to wash away all costs. The pro­fit which hee giues to English Lawyers, hee giues generally to the Lawes profession: that proceeds from his language, which to the credite of Innes [Page 294] of Court, and Law-French, he vtters harshly, to the great amazement of beholders. A peece of Parchment and a Seale throughly paid for, sa­tisfies him presently in steed of iudgement; but otherwise he spends his faith vpon the hope of costs: And if hee dies be­fore execution, he scarce hopes to be saued.

CHARACT. XV. A Country Bridegroome

IS the finest fellow in the Parish; and hee that misinterprets my definition, deserues no Rose­mary nor Rose-water: Hee ne­uer was maister of a feast before, that makes him hazard much [Page 295] new complement: But if his owne Maister bee absent, the Feast is full of displeasure; ex­cept in his latter dayes he grew rebellious; and then he must re­moue away to his wiues Coun­try; except his fortunes be per­emptory. Although he points out his brauery with ribbands, yet he hath no vaine-glory; for he contemnes fine cloathes with dropping pottage in his bo­some. The inuitation of guests, prouision of meate, getting of children, and his nuptiall gar­ments, haue kept his braine long in trauaile; if they were not arguments of his wooing Oratory. His inuitations are single, his prouisions double, his expected children sel­dome more then treble; but his garments at least quadru­ple. Hee inuites by rule with­in [Page 296] in distance, where hee hopes to preuaile; not without some paraphrase vpon his meaning. But (howsoeuer) hee seemes generous: for nothing trou­bles him, or takes away his sto­macke more, then default of company: yet in his pro­uision hee had rather take a­way your stomacke then fill your belly. As for his children if he begets aboue three, hee may beget for Gods sake to store the Parish. And yet his rayment (for the time) must shew much variety. The Tay­lor likewise must bee a vexation to him, or his cloathes would neuer sit hansomely: But (a­boue all) a bridle in his mouth would serue better then a Pickadell; for if you restraine him from his obiects, and the engine of his necke, you put [Page 297] him into the Pillory. Hee must sauour of gallantry a little; though he perfume the Table with Rose-cake; or appropri­ate Bone-lace, and Couentry­blew. Hee hath Heraldry e­nough to place euery man by his Armes: But his qua­lity smels rancke with running vp and downe to giue a hear­tily welcome: Blame him not though hee proue preposterous: for his inclination was perhaps alwayes good, but his behauiour now begins: which is notwith­standing (hee thinkes) well dis­charged if when he dances, the heeles of his shooes play the Galliard. (* * *) (⸪)

CHARACT. XVI. A Country Bride.

IS the beginning of the world: or an old booke with a new Title:

A quarters wages before hand, and the Title of a Coun­try Dame bee the two Ada­ments of her affection. She rises with a resolution to be extreme­ly sober: this begets silence, which giues her a repletion of aire without ventage: and that takes away her appetite. Shee seemes therefore commendably sober vnto all: but she driues the Parson out of patience with her modesty, vnlesse he haue interest or be inuited: She inclines to statelines, thogh ignorant of the meaning: Her interpretor, taster, caruer, and Sewer, be theresore [Page 299] accidentall; and yet without these, she were an Image to the assembly. Rosemary and Rib­bands be her best magnificence. She will therefore bestow a Li­very, though she receiues backe wages: behauiour stickes to her like a disease; necessity brings it; neither can she take pleasure in the custome: and therefore im­portunacie with repetition, en­force her to dumbe signes: o­therwise you must not looke for an answere. She is a courteous creature: nothing proceedes from her without a courtesie: Shee hath no ornament worth observance, if her gloues be not miraculous and singular. Those be the Trophy of some forlorne sutor, who contents himselfe with a large offring, or this glo­rious sentence, that she should haue beene his bed-fellow. Her [Page 300] best commendation is to be kist often: this onely proceeds from her without interruption. She may to some, seeme very raw in cariage, but this becomes noted through the feare of discove­ring it. No question is to bee made of her maiden-head: yet if she weepes, a question may a­rise; as whether she doth still de­sire to keepe it? but the answere take: away the doubt of loosing it: for neither can she repent her match before tryal, nor the losse of chastitie, seing she matcht for that purpose: but these are no­thing to preserue her honesty: for she cannot also cunningly proceed; but like a quiet crea­ture, wishes to loose her Gar­ters quickly, that shee may loose her maiden-head likewise. And now she is layd.

CHARAC. XVII. My Mistresse

IS my perspectiue glasse, through which I view the worlds vani­ty: she hath fiue seruants beside my selfe: and me (that I may stil continue dutifull) she suffers to be before hand with my wages: But I that know her coyne is counterfeit, suspect shee is a witch, and charmes the taker, or it would not else be so currant: The truth is, I first began to look vpon her, because she said she lo­ved a Poet well, and was in part a Poetresse: for which good qua­litie I might haue loved her like­wise; but she was onely good at long Hexameters, or a long and a short, even for variety sake; which came so full vpon Ouids [Page 302] amorous veine, that I despised her meaning. She had her edu­cation vnder a great Countesse; and if she could leaue the court­ship she learnt when she was a waiter, she might quickly proue a reasonable good woman. Her body is (I presume) of Gods making; and yet I cannot tell, for many parts therof she made herselfe.

Her head is in effect her whole body and attire: for from thence, and the devises there in­gendred, proceeds her blushing modesty, her innocent white teeth, her gawdy gownes, her powdred haire, her yellow bands, her farthingals, and false Diamonds.

All these together, and a quicke fansie commend her function: for Fidlers and [Page 303] Painters be full of Crotchets. I haue heard her also wish for new hands: but those she hath, will serue conveniently among them that know her properties: you need not make the question whether she can sing; for visita­tion will teach you, that she can scarce leaue singing. And as for dauncing, she will aske the que­stion of you. She hath the tricke of courtship, not to bee spoken with; to take Physicke, and to let her mountebancke bee the best ingredient. Her wit is Dainty, because seldome: and whatsoe­ver is wanting in the present de­licacie of conceit, shee makes good by rehearsall of stolne wit­tie answeres, even to the seventh addition. She purposes to tra­vell shortly, when as her voyage will onely returne with some [Page 304] French commoditie; and shee will rather fetch it, though shee may be furnished at home, be­cause shee loues the cheapest ware, and the outlandish fashi­on. Her generositie extends thus farre; to bestow loue, and looke for neither thankes nor requital; because a Marmoset and little Dogge bee ignorant of both. These excepted, she never loved truely. Her morall vertues be a subtill thrift, and a thriving sim­plicitie. But whilst she makes the best construction of a matter, she would make likewise a thou­sand pound Ioyncture of her behaviour onely, and Court­carriage. This bargaine is open for any man, who thinks not the peny-worth doubtfull. Her best Religion is to teach a Parret the Lords prayer; but the ten Com­mandements be a new matter: [Page 305] so that Petitions be more plausi­ble with her, then Iniunctions: at her owne request therefore I giue this to her looking-glasse.

CHARAC. XVIII. A Gossip

IS a windie Instrument; a paire of hellowes, or indeed two: For without her fellow, she is no­thing. These labour ioyntly as at an Alchymists furnace, onely to beget vapours: she receiues and sends backe breath with advan­tage; that is her function. Her end is to kindle; that is, to warm, or burne: she can do both. And being quiet, or not in contenti­on, shee is without her calling; that is, her company. Her know­ledge is her speech; the motiue, [Page 306] her tongue; and the reason her tongue also: but the subiect of her eloquence is the neighbours wife, and her husband; or the neighbours wife and husband both. Shee is the mirth of marriages, and publicke mee­tings: but her naturall season comes in with a minc'd pye, at Christmas; when all may at­tend with leasure. Shee carries her bladder in her braine, that is full; her braine in her tongues end, that shee empties. It was washed down thither with pints of Muscadine; and being there, shee looses it like vrine, (but in publicke) to ease her kidneyes: which would otherwise melt with anger, because she cannot be heard; or consume with ma­lice, because she was prevented. Being once a servant, shee then learnt to runne, or goe apace; [Page 307] that she might tarry and take, or giue intelligence by the way. Shee aemulates a Lawyer in ri­ding the circuite, and therefore she keepes a circuit in, or out of her own liberties: striuing to be both one of the Iudges, Iury and false witnesses: that is her free­dome onely, to censure. Shee contemplates within, that she may practise abroad; that makes her reveale secrets. Her mea­ning is colour, that shee dawbes on every Fable; but in her selfe abhorres it. Her truth is, to make truths and tales converti­bles: tales be her substance, her conceit, her vengeance, recon­cilements, and discourse. To talke of Cookerie, or cleanli­nesse, and to taxe others, is her best and onely commendation. To talke of what she is ignorant, yeelds her credit and presumpti­on; [Page 308] to taxe, giues a tribute to her owne praise by implication; and begets her Empire. Her lungs be everlasting: she can­not bee short winded: if those would perish, she might bee re­covered. Shee is alike dange­rous with the Poxe, to the town where she inhabites: and being pledged, or admitted among the fem [...]les, she infects more easily. If she railes against whoredome, it favours not of devotion; for she is onely married, to escape the like scandall; from the doore outward. The buriall of a second husband giues her the title of experience; but when shee hath out-lived three, she takes autho­ritie and experience both (as a Souldier that hath passed the pikes of three set battailes) for granted. Her commendable an­tiquitie reaches not aboue fiftie; [Page 309] for growing old, she growes o­dious to her selfe first: And to prevent the losse of company; (having lived vainly) she com­mences hostesse: that alone pre­serues her humour. A mungrill print would best expresse her Character: for she is indeed a mungrell woman, or the worst part of both sexes, bound vp in one volume: seing she corrupts the best by the vse of them.

CHARAC. XIX. An old Woman

IS one that hath seene the day: and is commonly ten yeares yonger, or ten years elder by her own confession, then the people know she is: if she desires to be youthfull accounted, you may [Page 310] call her Mistres, Widow, or the like; but otherwise old Mother, grandame, and such names that do seale antiquitie: the first she takes well, if childlesse: the last never well, but when shee can speake wonders to grand-chil­dren of the third generation. If they please her, she hath old Har­ry soueraignes, that saw no sun in fiftie yeares, to giue away on her death-bed. She loues the vpper end of the table, and professes much skill in Cookery: she thinks it also some felicitie to giue at­tendance about sicke persons: but is the cōmon foe to all Physi­tians. In agues, aches, coughes and tissickes, she confidently will vn­dertake to cure by prescription: if her selfe be vntainted. As for diseases which she knowes not, shee dares proceed to Dragon­water, Holy Thistles, Worme-wood-drinkes, [Page 311] and Clister s, without the helpe of Galen, or Hippocrates: if she blushes at the Sunnes rising, her colour changes not till bed­time: and somtimes though she drinkes downe her break-fast, by dinner time her teeth be grown, & she wil seeme to chew the cud. She may as safely walke amongst contagious Lepers, as into the kitchin, and smels infection, or perfume with the same nostrill. She hath perpetually the pride of being too cleanly, or the adhe­rent vice of being too sluttish. She affects behaviour in the brood of youth, and will divulge her secrets of superstition to any that will be attentiue. Envy is to her a iust parable twinne, and though it be offensiue common­ly to few, yet doth it oftentimes consume her selfe, and starue a­way her memory.

CHARAC. XX. A Witch

IS the Diuels Hostesse: he takes house-roome and dyet of her; and yet she paies the reckoning: guilty thoughts, and a particular malice of some one person, makes her conceiue detestation of all: her policy of sequestration, to a­void iealousie of neighbours, de­tects her envious spirit: for the melancholy darknesse of her low cottage is a maine coniecture of infernals: her name alone (being once mounted) makes discourse enough for the whole parish: if not for all hamlets within sixe miles of the market. She receiues wages in her owne coine: for she becomes as well the obiect of e­very mans malice, as the foun­taine [Page 313] of malice towards every man. The torments therefore of hot Iron, and mercilesse scratch­ing nails, be long thought vpon, and much threatned (by the fe­males) before attempted. Meane time shee tolerates defiance through the wrathfull spittle of matrons, in stead of fuell, or maintenance to her damnable intentions: she is therefore the ignorant cause of many Witches besides her selfe: for ceremoni­ous avoidāce brings the true title to many, although they hartily scorne the name of Witches. Her actions may wel seeme to betray her high birth and pedigree: for she doth quickly apprehend a wrong before it be mentioned: and (like a great family) takes no satisfaction which doth not infinitely countervaile the a­buse: children therefore cannot [Page 314] smile vpon her without the ha­zard of a perpetuall wry-mouth: a very Noble-mans request may be denied more safely then her petitions for small Beere: and a great Ladies, or Queenes name may be lesse doubtfully derided. Her prayers and Amen, be a charme & a curse: her con­templations and soules-delight be other mens mischiefe: her portion and suters be her soule, and a succubus: her highest ado­rations be Yew-trees, dampish Church-yards, & a faire Moone­light: her best preservatiues be odde numbers, and mightie Te­tragrammaton: these provoca­tiues to her lust with Divels, breedes her contempt of Man; whilst she (like one sprung from the Antipodes) enioyes her best noone about midnight: and (to make the comparison hold) is [Page 315] troden vnder foot by a publicke & general hatred: she is nothing, if not a Pythagorean; for she maintaines the transmigration of spirits: these doe vphold the market of bargain & sale among them; which affoords all sorts of cattell at a cheaper rate then Bankes his horse, and better in­structed: but (like a prodigall) she is out-reached, by thinking earnest is a payment; because the day is protracted. Her affecti­ons be besotted in affectation of her science; Shee would not else delight in Toades, Mice, or spin­ning Cats without diuersity: It is probable she was begotten by some Mounte-bank, or Wor­ding Poet, for she consists of as many fearefull sounds without s [...]ience, and vtters them to as many delusiue purposes: Shee is a cunning Statuary: and frames [Page 316] many idols: these she doth wor­ship no otherwise then with greedy scorne: and yet she is a deepe Idolater: implication is enough with her, to bespeake any mans picture, without his entreaty: for if it appeares that he can prouoke her, it implyes likewise that he desires to be re­membred by her; and images be a certaine memoriall. Shee seldome liues long enough to attaine the Mysterie of Oynt­ments, herbs, charmes, or In­cantations perfectly: for age is most incident to this corrupti­on, and destiny preuents her. But howsoeuer she be past child­bearing, yet she giues sucke till the latest minute of fiue-score and vpwards. If she out-liues hempe, a wooden halter is strong enough: vnlesse she saues a labour.

CHARACT. XXI. A Pandar

IS the scab of a Common-wealth: surfets raise him to a blister; necessity, and want of good Surgeons, make him a mattery sore; whilst Time and Tobacco brings him to a dry scale. He is commonly the vpshot of a yon­ger brother, who lackes Honestie and Inheritance; or the remain­der of a prodigall, who hath lost them and himselfe. His Etymologie is Pawne-dare: which intimates; hee dares pawne his soule to damnation, or his stolne parcels to the Brokers. Bawdy songs and he came both in together; for he is no generous compani­on except he can sing, and also compose stinking Ditties. He [Page 318] hath bene a great hunter vp and downe in his daies, and there­fore (it is no wonder) if towards a decay he become Warrener. He is the deuils Country-man or indeed acquaintance: there­fore in the deuils absence hee proues his Deputy; and wel­comes customers with fire­workes: a pipe of Tobacco, and a hot Queane. His Vsher-like attendance on Publike whores hath made Coaches frequent; to distinguish them and Pri­uate Ones. His valour is ex­pressed in blacke patches (much about Roaring Boyes humour) but playsters, which expresse him more ventrous, hee con­ceales. He wishes to be the first teacher of a Nouice: and (being so admitted his Tutor) hee first teaches him to beware of adul­tery and theft, by making him [Page 319] guilty before he hath offended: with which two vices hee doth first accuse him, because him­selfe is best acquainted with those two. If he be married, hee hath diuorced himselfe, because his wife was honest, & so meanes to continue: or (beeing disho­nest) because shee was odiously deformed, not worthy to entice others. His Creed is a matter of three Articles, and them he be­leeues actually: First, that there is no God: secondly, that all wo­men, and more especially that all Citizens wiues, bee, or would bee, common, or peculiar whores: & lastly, that all things are lawfull, which can escape the Lawes dan­ger: good examples therefore preuaile with him, as showers a­mong the stones: they make him more studious to deceiue passen­gers: not to produce imitation [Page 320] in him, nor to beget fertility in them. His Fellowships be reti­red, and within dores: for being abroad, he is a sober lumpe of villany; delighting vnsociably (like a Cut-purse, and for the same reason) rather in multitudes then ciuill numbers. The Bawd and Hee, are chiefe confederates: with whom (together, as occasi­on happens) the Constable hath standing wages to be an assistant; euery way as Hee be­ing ready to disturbe or not di­sturbe their cu­stomers, as they shall in­struct him. dangerous as the other two. Bowling-allies, Dicing­houses, and Tobacco shopes, be the Temples, which Hee, and his Fraternity of Rorers, haue ere­cted to Mercury and Fortune: In the two first he doth acknow­ledge their Deity; in the last hee offers smoking incense to them both; in recompence of booty gotten by Chance and cheating. If the Gallowes be disappointed [Page 321] of his destiny, they can blame nothing but his tender bones, which could not brooke so long a iourney; or a whores quar­rell, whilst Wine was his Leader.

FINIS.

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