A WIFE NOVV The Widdow OF SIR THOMAS OVERBVRYE.
Being A most exquisite and singular Poem of the choice of a Wife.
WHEREVNTO ARE ADDED many witty Characters, and conceited Newes, written by himselfe and other learned Gentlemen his friends.
LONDON Printed for Lawrence Lisle, and are to bee sold at his shop in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Tigers head. 1614.
THE PRINTER TO the Reader.
THY ignorance may challenge libertie enough, not to relish the deepe Arte of Poetry: because opinion makes thee obstinate; and rude tradition hath taught thee nothing but an abuse of knowledge. For when thou readest a quaffing fellowes barbarisme, a worthy-written stile in Tragedies, and a collusiue flourish onely fronted with the name of excellent; thou ouer-lookst them all with the vsuall contempt or aspersion of friuolous, and fantasticke labours, putting no difference betwixt the horse pictured on a signe-post, and the curious limbd Pegasus: But the age giues one comfort in extremitie, that as there is a Lizard which assailes; so is there one, which wonders at the maiestie of man: sure I am if any shall neglect, nay not commend the worth of this so generally approued Poem; he may (if it proceeds from nice critiscisme) bee well excluded as a churlish retainer to the Muses; (if [Page] from a direct plaine dealing) he must be degraded for insufficiencie. For had such a volume been extant among the ancient Romanes, though they wanted our easie conseruations of wit, by printing; yet would they rather, and more easily, haue committed the sense hereof to brasse, and cedar leaues, then let such an Author, baue lost his due eternitie. If to converse with a creature so amiable, heere described, be thought more then difficult, let then the contemplation of it be admirable, which hath expressed the soule in so compact aforme of body. The surplusage, that now exceeds the last edition, was (that I may bee honestly impartiall) in some things only to be challenged by the first author, but others now added, (little inferior to the residue) being in nature answerable, and first transcrib'd by Gentlemen of the same qualitie, I haue vpon good inducements, made publike with warrantie of their and my owne credit. Not doubting therefore to be doubly discharged, both by the verdict of conscience and the welldeserued thankes of all iudicious Readers, I bid you euery one farewell, May 16. 1614.
A MORNING-SACRIFICE to the Author.
Briefe Panegyrickes to the Authors praise.
To the Booke.
Of the choice of a Wife.
FIrst of Mariage, and the effect thereof, children. Then of his contrarie, Lust; then for his choice. First, his opinion negatiuely, what should not be: the first causes in it, that is, neither Beauty, Birth, nor Portion. Then affirmatiuely, what should bee, of which kind there are fower: Goodnesse, Knowledge, Discretion, and as a second thing Beauty. The first onely is absolutely good, the other being built vpon the first doe likewise become so. Then the application of that woman by loue to himselfe, which makes her a wife. And lastly the only condition of a wife, Fitnesse.
A Wife.
The Authors Epitaph.
CHARACTERS, OR VVitty Descriptions of the properties of sundry Persons.
A good Woman.
A Good Woman is a comfort, like a Man. Shee lacks of him nothing but heat. Thence is her sweetnes of disposition, which meets his stoutnes more pleasantly; so wooll meets iron easier then iron, and turnes resisting into embracing. Hir greatest learning is religion, and her thoughts are on her owne Sexe, or on men, without casting the difference. Dishonestie neuer comes neerer than her eares, and then wonder stops it out, and saues vertue the labour. Shee leaues the neat youth telling his lushious tales, and puts backe the Seruingmans putting forward with a frowne: yet her kindnesse is free enough to be seene; for it hath no guilt about it: and [Page] her mirth is cleare, that you may looke through it, into vertue, but not beyond. She hath not behauiour at a certaine, but makes it to her occasion. She hath so much knowledge as to loue it, and if shee haue it not at home; she will fetch it; for this sometimes in a pleasant discontent shee dares chide her Sexe, though shee vse it neuer the worse. Shee is much within, and frames outward things to her minde, not her minde to them. Shee weares good clothes, but neuer better; for shee finds no degree beyond Decencie. Shee hath a content of her owne, and so seekes not a husband, but finds him. Shee is indeed most, but not much to description, for shee is direct and one, and hath not the varietie of ill. Now shee is giuen fresh and aliue to a husband, and shee doth nothing more than loue him, for shee takes him to that purpose. So his good becomes the businesse of her actions, and shee doth her selfe kindnesse vpon him. After his, her chiefest vertue is a good husband. For Shee is Hee.
A very very Woman.
A Very very Woman, is a dow-bakt man, or a Shee ment well towards man, but fell the two bowes short strength & vnderstanding. Her virtue is the hedge of Modestie, that keeps a man from clyming ouer into her faults. Shee simpers as if shee had no teeth, but lips, and shee deuides her eyes and keeps halfe for her selfe, and giues th' other to her near Youth. Being set downe shee casts her face into a platforme, which [Page] dureth the meale, and is taken away with the voyder. Her draught reacheth to good manners, not to thirst, and it is a part of their misterie not to professe hunger; but Nature takes her in priuate and stretcheth her vpon meat. She is Mariageable and Fourteene at once; and after shee doth not liue but tarry. Shee reads ouer her face euery morning, and somtime blots out pale, and writes red. Shee thinks shee is faire, though many times her opinion goes alone, and shee loues her glasse and the knight of the Sunne for lying. Shee is hid away all but her face, and that's hang'd about with toyes and deuices, like the signe of a Tauerne to draw Strangers. If shee shew more, shee preuents desire, and by too free-giuing, leaues no Gift. Shee may escape from the Seruingman, but not from the chambermaide. Shee commits with her eares for certaine, after that shee may goe for a Maide, but shee hath been lyen with in her vnderstanding. Her Philosophie is a seming neglect of those, that be too good for her. Shee's a younger brother for her portion, but not for her portion of wit, that comes from her in a treble, which is still too big for it; yet her Vanitie seldome matcheth her, with one of her owne degree, for then shee will beget another creature a begger, and commonly if shee marry better, shee marries worse. Shee gets much by the simplicitie of her Sutor, and for a iest, laughes at him without one. Thus shee dresses a husband for her selfe, and after takes him for his patience, and the land adioyning, yee may see it, in a Seruingmans fresh naperie, and his leg steps into an vnknowne stocking. I need not speake of his garters, the tassell shewes it selfe. If shee loue shee loue, she loues [Page] not the man but the beast of him. Shee is Salomons cruell creature, and a mans walking consumption: euery caudle shee giues him, is a purge. Hir chiefe commendation is, she brings a man to repentance.
Her next part.
Her lightnesse gets her to swim at top of the Table, where her wry little singer, bewrayes caruing; her neighbours at the latter end, know they are welcome, and for that purpose shee quencheth her thirst. Shee trauels to and among, and so becomes a woman of good entertainment, for all the folly in the country, comes in cleane linnen to visit her; shee breakes to them her griefe in sugar cakes, and receiues from their mouthes in exchange, many stories that conclude to no purpose. Her eldest Sonne is like her howsoeuer, and that dispraiseth him best: her vtmost drift, is to turne him foole, which commonly she obtaines at the yeares of discretion. Shee takes a iourney somtimes to her neeces house, but neuer thinks beyond London. Her Deuotion is good clothes, they carry her to Church, expresse their stuffe and fashion, and are silent; if shee be more deuout, shee lifts vp a certaine number of eyes, in stead of prayers, and takes the Sermon and measures out a nap by it, iust as long. Shee sends Religion afore to Sixtie, where she neuer ouertakes it, or driues it before her againe. Her most necessarie instruments, are a waiting-Gentlewoman, and a chamber-maide, shee weares her Gentlewoman still, but most often leaues th'other in her chamber window. She hath a litle Kennell in her lap, and she smells [Page] the sweeter for it. The vtmost reach of her Prouidence, is the fatnesse of a Capon, and her greatest enuie, is the next Gentlewomans better gowne. Her most commendable skill, is to make her husbands fustian beare her veluet. This shee doth many times ouer, and then is deliuered to old age and a chaire, where euery body leaues her.
A Dissembler
IS an essence needing a double definition, for hee is not that hee appeares. Vnto the eye hee is pleasing, vnto the eare not harsh, but vnto the vnderstanding intricate, and full of windings: he is the prima materia, and his intents giue him forme: he dieth his meanes and his meaning into two colors, he baites craft with humilitie, and his countenance is the picture of the present dispositions. Hee winnes not by battry, but vndermining, and his racke is soothing. He allures, is not allur'd by his affections, for they are the brokers of his obseruation. Hee knowes passion onely by sufferance, and resisteth by obeying. Hee makes his time an accomptant to his memorie, and of the humors of men weaues a net for occasion; the inquisitor must looke through his iudgment, for to the eye only he is not visible.
A Courtier
TO all mens thinking is a man, and to most men the finest: all things else are defined by the vnderstanding, but this by the sences; but his surest marke is, that hee is to bee found onely about Princes. Hee smells; and putteth away much of his iudgement about the scituation of his clothes. Hee knowes no man that is not generally knowne. His wit, like the Marigold, openeth with the Sunne, and therefore hee riseth not before ten of the clocke. Hee puts more confidence in his words than meaning, and more in his pronuntiation than his words. Occasion is his Cupid, and hee hath but one receipt of making loue. Hee followes nothing but inconstancie, admires nothing but beauty, honours nothing but fortune. Loues nothing. The sustenance of his discourse is newes, and his censure like a shot depends vpon the charging. Hee is not, if he be out of Court, but fish-like breathes destruction, if out of his owne element. Neither his motion, or aspect are regular, but hee mooues by the vpper Spheres, and is the reflexion of higher substances. If you finde him not heere, you shall in Paules, with a pick-tooth in his hat, a cape cloke, and a long stocking.
A golden Asse
IS a young thing, whose Father went to the Deuill; he is followed like a salt bitch, and lymb'd by him that gets vp first; his disposition is cut, and knaues rent him like tenter-hookes: hee is as blind as his mother, and swallowes flatterers for friends. He is high in his owne imagination, but that imagination is a stone, that is raised by violence, descends naturally; when hee goes, he lookes who lookes, if he finds not good store of vaylers, he comes home stiffe and seere vntill hee be new oyled and watered by his husbandmen. Wheresoeuer hee eats, hee hath an officer to warne men not to talke out of his e [...]ment, and his owne is exceeding sensible, because it is sensuall; but he cannot exchange a peece of reason, though hee can a peece of gold. Hee is naught pluckt, for his feathers are his beauty, and more then his beauty, they are his discretion, his countenance, his All. He is now at an end, for hee hath had the wolfe of vaineglory, which he fed vntill himselfe became the food.
A Flatterer
IS the shadow of a foole. Hee is a good wood-man, for he singleth out none but the wealthy. His cariage is euer of the colour of his patient; and for his sake he will halt or weare a wry neck. Hee dispraiseh nothing but pouertie, and small drinke, and praiseth his grace of making water. Hee selleth himselfe with reckoning his great Friends, and teacheth the present how to win his praises by reciting the others gifts: hee is ready for all employments, but especially before dinner, for his courage and his stomacke goe together. Hee will play any part vpon his countenance, and where hee cannot be admitted for a counseller, hee will serue as foole. Hee frequents the court of wards and ordinaries, and fits these guests of Togae virilis, with wiues or whores. Hee entreth young men into acquaintance and debt bookes. In a word, hee is the impression of the last terme, and will be so, vntill the comming of a new terme or termer.
Anignorant glory-hunter
IS an insecta animalia; for he is the maggot of opinion, his behavuiour is another thing from himselfe, and is glewed, and but set on. Hee entertaines men with repetitions, and returnes them their owne words. Hee is ignorant of nothing, no not of those things, where ignorance is the lesser shame. He gets the names of good wits, and vtters them for his companions. Hee confesseth vices that he is guiltlesse of, if they bee in fashion; and dares not salute a man in old clothes, or out of fashion. There is not a publike assembly without him, and hee will take any paines for an acquaintance there. In any shew hee will be one, though hee be but a whistler or a torch-bearer; and beares downe strangers with the storie of his actions. He handles nothing that is not rare, and defends his wardrope, diet, and all customes, with entitling their beginnings from Princes, great Souldiers, and strange Nations. He dares speake more than he vnderstands, and adventures his words without the reliefe of any seconds. He relates battels and skirmishes, as from an eye witnes, when his eyes theeuishly beguiled a ballad of them. In a word, to make sure of admiration, he will not let himselfe vnderstand himselfe, but hopes fame and opinion, will be the Readers of his Riddles.
A Tymist
IS a noune Adiectiue of the present tense. He hath no more of a conscience then Feare, and his religion is not his but the Princes. He reuerenceth a Courtiers Seruants seruant. Is first his owne Slaue, and then whosoeuer looketh big; when hee giues hee curseth, and when he sells he worships. He reads the statutes in his chamber, and weares the Bible in the streets; hee neuer praiseth any but before themselues or friends; and mislikes no great mans actions during his life. His new-yeares gifts are ready at Allhalomas, and the sute he ment to mediate before them. He pleaseth the children of great men, and promiseth to adopt them; and his curtesie extends it selfe euen to the stable. Hee straines to talke wisely, and his modestie would serue a Bride. Hee is grauitie from the head to the foot, but not from the head to the heart; you may finde what place he affecteth, for he creepes as neere it as may be, and as passionately courts it; if at any time his hopes are effected, hee swelleth with them; and they burst out too good for the vessell. In a word, hee danceth to the tune of Fortune, and studies for nothing but to keepe time.
An Amorist
IS a creature blasted or planet-stroken, and is the dog that leads blind Cupid; when hee is at the best, his fashion exceeds the worth of his weight. He is neuer without verses, and muske comfects: and sighes to the hazard of his buttons; his eyes are all white, either to weare the liuery of his Mistres complexion, or to keep Cupid from hitting the blacke. He fights with passion, and looseth much of his bloud by his weapon; dreames, thence his palenes. His armes are carelesly vsed, as if their best vse were nothing but embracements. He is vntrust and vnbuttoned, vngartred, not out of carelesnes, but care; his farthest end being but going to bed. Somtimes he wraps his petition in neatnes, but it goeth not alone, for then he makes some other qualitie moralize his affection, and his trimnes is the grace of that grace. Hir fauour lifts him vp as the Sunne moisture; when she disfauours, vnable to hold that happinesse, it falls down in teares; his fingers are his Orators, and he expresseth much of himselfe vpon some instrument. He answers not, or not to the purpose; and no maruell, for he is not at home. He scocheth time with dancing with his Mistres, taking vp of hir gloue, & wearing hir feather; he is confinde to hir colour, & dares not passe out of the circuit of hir memorie. His imagination is a foole, and it goeth in a pied-coat of red and white; shortly hee is translated out of a man into folly; his imagination is the glasse of lust, and himselfe the traitor to his own disceretion.
An affected Traueller
IS a speaking fashion; he hath taken paines to bee ridiculous, and hath seen more then he hath perceiued. His attire speakes French or Italian, and his gate cryes Behold mee. Hee censures all things by countenances, and shrugs, and speakes his owne language with shame and lisping: he will choake rather than confesse Beere good drinke: and his pick-tooth is a maine part of his behauiour. Hee chooseth rather to be counted a Spie, then not a Polititian: and maintaines his reputation by naming great men familiarly. He chooseth rather to tell lyes then not wonders, and talkes with men singly; his discourse sounds big but meanes nothing: and his boy is bound to admire him howsoeuer. He comes still from great personages, but goes with meane. He takes occasion to shew lewells giuen him in regard of his vertue, that were bought in S. Martins, and not long after, hauing with a Mountebaneks method, pronounced them worth thousands, empawneth them for a few shillings. Vpon festiuall daies he goes to Court, and salutes without re-saluting: at night in an Ordinarie hee confesseth the businesse in hand, and seemes as conversant with all intents and plots, as if he begot them. His extraordinary accompt of men is, first to tell them the ends of all matters of consequence, and then to borrow mony of them; hee offereth curtesies, to shew them, rather then himselfe humble. He disdaines all things [Page] aboue his reach, and preferreth all Countries before his owne. Hee imputeth his wants and pouertie to the ignorance of the time, not his owne vnworthines: and concludes his discourse with a halfe period, or a word, and leaues the rest to imagination. In a word, his religion is fashion, and both body and soule are gouerned by same, he loues most voices aboue truth.
A Wise-man
IS the truth of the true definition of man, that is, a reasonable creature. His disposition alters, alters not. He hides himselfe with the attire of the vulgar; and in indifferent things is content to be gouerned by them. He lookes according to nature, so goes his behauiour. His mind enioyes a continuall smoothnesse, so cometh it, that his consideration is alwaies at home. Hee endures the faults of all men silently, except his friends, and to them hee is the mirrour of their actions; by this meanes his peace commeth not from fortune, but himselfe. He is cunning in men, not to surprise but keepe his owne, and beats off their ill affected humours, no otherwise then if they were flies. Hee chooseth not friends by the subsidie booke, and is not luxurious after acquaintance. Hee maintaines the strength of his body, not by delicacies, but temperance; and his minde by giuing it preheminence ouer his body. Hee vnderstands things not by their forme, but qualities; and his comparisons intend not to excuse, but to prouoke him higher. [Page] Hee is not subiect to casualties, for fortune hath nothing to doe with the minde, except those drowned in the body: but he hath diuided his soule, from the case of his soule, whose weaknesse he assists no otherwise than commiseratiuely, not that it is his, but that it is. Hee is thus, and will be thus: and liues subiect neither to time nor his frailties; the seruant of vertue, and by vertue the friend of the highest.
A noble Spirit
HAth surueyed and fortified his disposition, and converts all occurrents into experience, between which experience and his reason, there is a mariage; the issue are his actions. He circuits his intents, and seeth the end before he shoot. Men are the instruments of his Art, and there is no man without his vse: occasion encites him, none enticeth him; and hee mooues by affection, not for affection; hee loues glory, skornes shame, and gouerneth and obeyeth with one countenance; for it comes from one consideration. He calls not the varietie of the world chances, for his meditation hath trauailed ouer them; and his eye mounted vpon his vnderstanding seeth them as things vnderneath. Hee couers not his bodie with delicacies, nor excuseth these delicacies by his bodie, but teacheth it, since it is not able to defend it's owne imbecilitie to shew or suffer. He licenseth not his weaknes, to weare fate, but knowing reason to be no idle gift of nature, he is the Steeres-man [Page] of his owne destinie. Truth is his Goddesse, and hee takes pains to get her, not to looke like hir. He knowes the condition of the world, that he must act one thing by another, and then another. To these he carries his desires, not his desires him; and stickes not fast by the way (for that contentment is repentance) but knowing the circle of all courses, of all intents, of all things, to haue but one center or period, without all distraction he hasteth thither and ends there, as his true and naturall element. Hee doth not contemne fortune, but not confesse her. He is no Gamster of the world (which onely complaine and praise her) but being only sensible of the honestie of actions, contemnes a particular profit as the excrement or skum. Vnto the societie of men hee is a Sunne, whose clearenesse directs their steps in a regular motion: when he is more particular, hee is the wise-mans freind, the example of the indifferent, the medicine of the vicious. Thus time goeth not from him, but with him: and he feeles age more by the strength of his soule, than the weaknesse of his body: thus feeles he not paine, but esteemes all such things as frends that desire to file off his fetters, and helpe him out of prison.
An old Man
IS a thing that hath been a man in his daies. Old men are to bee knowne blindfolded: for their talke is as terrible as their resemblance. They praise their [Page] owne times as vehemently, as if they would sell them. They become wrinckled with frowning and facing youth: they admire their owne customes, euen to the eating of red herring, and going wet-shod. They call the thombe vnder the girdle grauitie, and because they can hardly smel at all, their posies are vnder their girdles. They count it an ornament of speech, to close the period with a cough; and it is venerable, they say, to spend time in wyping their driueled beards. Their discourse is vnanswerable, by reason of their obstinacie: and their speech is much, though little to the purpose. Truthes and lyes passe with an equall affirmation, for their memories seuerall is worne into one receptacle, and so they come out with one sense. They teach their seruants their duties with as much scorne & tyrannie, as some people teach their dogs to fetch. Their enuie is one of their diseases. They put off and on their clothes, with that certaintie, as if they knew, their heads would not direct them, and therefore custome should. They take a pride in halting and going stiffely, and therefore their staues are carued and tipped; they trust their attire with much of their grauitie; and they dare not go without a gown in summer. Their hats are brushed to draw mens eyes off from their faces; but of all, their Pomanders are worne to most purpose, for their putri fied breath ought not to want either a smell to defend, or a dog to excuse.
A Country Gentleman
IS a thing out of whose corruption, the generation of a Iustice of peace is produced. Hee speakes statutes and husbandry well enough, to make his neighbours thinke him a wise-man; hee is well skilled in Arithmetike or rates; and hath eloquence enough to saue his two-pence. His conversation amongst his Tenants is desperate; but amongst his equalls full of doubt. His trauell is seldome farther then the next market towne, and his inquisition is about the price of corne: when hee trauelleth hee will goe ten mile out of the way, to a Cosens house of his to saue charges; and rewards the Seruanrs by taking them by the hand when hee departs. Nothing vnder a Sub-poena can draw him to London, and when hee is there, hee stickes fast vpon euerie obiect, casts his eyes away vpon gazing, and becomes the prey of euery cut-purse. When he comes home those wonders serue him for his holliday talke. If hee goes to Court, it is in yellow stockings, and if he be in winter, in a sleight taffetie cloke, & pumpes and pantastles. He is chaynd, [Page] that wooes the vsher fo his comming into the presence, where hee becomes troublesome with the ill managing of his rapier, and the wearing of his girdle of one fashion and the hangers of another; by this time hee hath learned to kisse his hand, and make a leg both together, and the names of Lords and Counsellors; he hath thus much toward entertainment and curtefie, but of the last he makes more vse; for by the recitall of my Lord, hee coniures his poore countrymen. But this is not his element, but he must home againe, being like a Dor, that ends his flight in a dunghill.
A fine Gentleman
IS the Cynamon tree, whose barke is more worth then his body. Hee hath read the booke of good manners, and by this time each of his limbes may read it. He alloweth of no iudge, but the eye; painting, boulstring and bombasting are his Orators: by these also he proues his industrie: for he hath purchased legs, haire, beauty, and straightnesse, more then nature left him. Hee vnlocks maidenheads with his language, and speakes Ephues not so gracefully as heartily. His discourse makes not his behauiour, but he buyes it at Court, as countrymen their clothes in Burchin lane. Hee is somwhat like the Salamander, and liues in the flame of loue, which paines he expresseth comically: and nothing grieues him so much, as the want of a Poet to make an issue in his loue; yet he [Page] sighes sweetly, and speakes lamentably: for his breath is perfumed, and his words are winde. Hee is best in season at Christmas; for the Boores head and Reueller come together; his hopes are laden in his qualitie, and lest fidlers should take him vnprouided, he weares pumpes in his pocket, and lest hee should take fidlers vnprouided, he whistles his owne galliard. He is a calender of ten yeares, and mariage rusts him. Afterwards hee maintaines himselfe an implement of houshold by caruing and vshering. For all this he is iudiciall only in Tailors and Barbers, but his opinion is euer ready and euer idle. If you will know more of his Arts, the Brokers shop is the witnes of his valour, where lies wounded, dead, rent and out of fashion many a spruce suite ouerthrowen by his fantastikenes.
An elder Brother.
IS a creature borne to the best aduantage of things without him; that hath the start at the beginning, but loy [...]ers it away before the ending. He lookes like his land, as heauily, and durtily, as slubbornely. He dares doe any thing but fight: and feares nothing but his Fathers life and minoritie. The first thing hee makes knowne is his estate; and the load-stone that drawes him is the vpper end of the table. He wooeth by a particular, and his strongest argument is the ioynture. His obseruation is all about the fashion, and he commends Partlets for a rare deuise. Hee speakes [Page] no language, but smells of dogs or hawkes; and his ambition flies Iustice-hight. He loues to be commended, and hee will goe into the kitchin, but heele haue it. He loues glory, but is so lazie as he is content with flatterie. He speakes most of the precedencie of age, and protests fortune the greatest vertue. He summoneth the old seruants, and tells what strange acts hee will doe, when he raignes. Hee verily beleeues houskeepers the best common-wealths men; and therfore studies baking, brewing, greasing, and such, as the lyms of goodnesse. Hee iudgeth it no small signe of wisdome to talke much, his tongue therefore goes continually his errand, but neuer speeds. If his vnderstanding were not honester than his will, no man should keepe a good conceit by him; for hee thinkes it no theft, to sell all he can to opinion. His pedigree and his fathers seale-ring, are the stilts of his crazed disposition. He had rather keep companie with the dregs of men, than not to be the best man. His insinuation is the inviting men to his house; and hee thinkes it a great modestie, to comprehend his cheere vnder a peece of mutton and a rabbet; if by this time he be not knowne, hee will goe home againe, for hee can no more abide to haue himselfe concealed, then his land; yet he is as you see good for nothing, except to make a stallion to maintaine the race.
A Welchman
IS the Oyster, that the pearle is in, for a man may be pickt out of him. He hath the abilities of the mind in potentia, and actu nothing but boldnesse. His clothes are in fashion before his bodie; and hee accompts boldnesse the chiefest vertue. Aboue all men he loues a Herrald, and speakes pedigrees naturally. He accompts none well descended, that call him not Cosen: and prefers Owen Glendower before any of the nine Worthies. The first note of his familiaritie is the confession of his valour; and so he preuents quarrells. Hee voucheth Welch a pure, an vnconquered language; and courts Ladies with the storie of their Chronicle. To conclude, he is pretious in his owne conceit, and vpon S. Dauids day without comparison.
A Pedant
HE treads in rule, and one hand skans verses, and the other holds his scepter. He dares not thinke a thought, that the Nominatiue case gouernes not the verbe; and he neuer had meaning in his life, for he trauelled onely for words. His ambition is Criticisme, and his example is Tully. Hee values phrases, and elects them by the found, and the eight parts of speach are his seruants. To be briefe, he is a Hetaroclue, for he wants the plurall number, hauing onely the single qualitie of words.
A Seruingman
IS a Creature which though he be not drunke, yet is not his owne man. He tells without asking, who ownes him, by the superscription of his liuery. His life is for ease and leasure much about gentleman-like. His wealth enough to suffice nature, and sufficient to make him happy, if hee were sure of it; for hee hath litle and wants nothing, he values himselfe higher or lower, as his Master is. Hee hates or loues the men, as his Master doth the Master. He is commonly proud of his Masters horses, or his Christmas; hee sleepes when he is sleepie, is of his religion, onely the clocke of his stomacke is set to goe an hower after his. He seldome breakes his owne clothes. He neuer drinkes but double, for hee must be pledg'd: not commonly without some short sentence nothing to the purpose: and seldome abstaines till hee come to a thirst. His discretion is to bee carefull for his Masters credit, and his sufficiencie to marshall dishes at a table, and to carue well. His neatnesse consists much in his haire and outward linnen. His courting language, visible bawdy iests; and against his matter faile, he is alway ready furnished with a song. His inheritance is the chamber-maide, but often purchaseth his Masters daughter, by reason of opportunitie, or for want of a better; he alwaies cuckolds himselfe, and neuer marries but his own widow. His Master being appeased, he becomes a retayner, and entailes himselfe and his posteritie vpon his heires males for euer.
An Host
IS the kernell of a signe: or the signe is the shell, and mine Host is the snaile. He consists of double beere and fellowship, and his vices are the bawdes of his thirst. Hee entertaines humbly, and giues his guests power, aswell of himselfe as house. Hee answers all mens expectations to his power, saue in the reckoning: and hath gotten the tricke of greatnesse, to lay all mislikes vpon his seruants. His wife is the Cumenseede of his doue house: and to bee a good guest is a warrant for her libertie. Hee traffiques for guests by mens friends, friends friend, and is sensible only of his purse. In a word, he is none of his owne: for he neither eats, drinks or thinks but at other mens charges and appointments.
An Ostler
IS a thing that scrubbeth vnreasonably his horse, reasonably himselfe. He consists of Trauellers, though he be none himselfe. His highest ambition is to bee Host, and the invention of his signe is his greatest wit: for the expressing whereof he sends away the painters forwant of vnderstanding. He hath certain charmes for a horse mouth, that hee shall not eat his hay: and behind your backe, hee will cozen your horse to his face. His curry-combe is one of his best parts, for hee [Page] expresseth much by the gingling: and his mane-combe is a Spinners card turn'd out of seruice. Hee puffes and blowes ouer your horse, to the hazard of a double iugge: and leaues much of the dressing to the prouerbe of Muli mut uo scabient, one horse rubs another. He comes to him that calls loudest not first; he takes a broken head patiently, but the knaue he feeles not. His vtmost honestie is goodfellowship, and hee speakes Northerne, what countryman soeuer. Hee hath a pension of Ale from the next Smith and Sadler for intelligence. Hee loues to see you ride, and holds your stirrop in expectation.
NEWES, FROM ANY VVHENCE: OR Old Truthes vnder a supposall of Noueltie.
Occasioned by diuers Essayes and priuate passages of wit between sundry Gentlemen vpon that subiect.
Newes from Court.
IT is thought heere, that there are as great miseries beyond happinesse, as a this side it, as being in loue. That truth is euery mans by assenting. That time makes euery thing aged, and yet it selfe was neuer but a minute old. That next sleep, the greatest deuourer of time is businesse: the greatest stretcher of it, Passion; the truest measure of it, Contemplation. To be saued, alwaies is the best plot: and vertue alwaies cleeres her way as she goes. Vice is euer behind-hand with it selfe; that wit and a woman are two fraile things, and both the frailer by concurring. That the meanes of begetting a man hath more encreast mankind then the end. That the madnes of loue [Page] is to be sicke of one part, and cured by another. The madnes of ielousie, that it is so diligent, and yet hopes to loose his labour. That all women for the bodily part, are but the same meaning put in diuers words; that the difference in the sense is their vnderstanding. That the wisdome of Action is Discretion, the knowledge of contemplation is truth, the knowledge of action is men. That the first considers what should be, the latter makes vse of what is. That euery man is weake in his owne humors. That euerie man a litle beyond himselfe is a foole. That affectation is the more ridiculous part of folly, then ignorance. That the matter of greatnesse is comparison. That God made one world of Substances; man hath made another of Arte and Opinion. That money is nothing but a thing which Art hath turned vp trumpe. That custome is the soule of circumstances. That custome hath so far preuailed, that truth is now the greatest newes.
Answer to the Court newes.
THat Happines and Miserie are Antipodes. That Goodnesse is not Felicitie, but the rode thither. That mans strength is but a vicisitude of falling and rising. That only to refraine ill, is to be ill still. That the plot of saluation was laid before the plot of Paradise. That enioying is the preparatiue to contemning. That hee that seekes opinion beyond merit, goes iust so far backe. That no man can obtaine his desires; nor the world hath not to fill his measure. That to studie men is more profitable than bookes. That mens loues are their afflictions. That [Page] titles of honour are tartles to still ambition. That to be a King is fames butt, and feares quiuer. That the soules of women and louers are wrapt vp in the portmanque of their senses. That imagination is the end of man. That wit is the web, and wisdome the woose of the cloth, so that womens soules were neuer made vp. That enuy knowes what it will not confesse. That Goodnesse is like the art prospectiue, one point center, begetting infinite rayes. That man, woman, and the deuill, are the three degrees of comparison. That this newes holds number but not weight, by which couple all things receiue forme.
Country Newes.
THat there is most heere, for it gathers in going. That reputation is measured by the acre. That pouertie is the greatest dishonestie. That the pitty of (alas poore soule) is for the most part mistaken. That rost beefe is the best smell. That a Iustice of peace is the last relique of Idolatry. That the allegorie of Iustice drawne blind, is turned the wrong way. That not to liue to heauenly, is accounted great wrong. That wisdome descends in a race. That we loue names better than persons. That to hold in knights-seruice is a slipperie tenure. That a Papist is a new word for a traytor. That the dutie of religion is lent not pai'd. That the reward is lost in the want of humilitie. That the Puritane persecution is as a cloud that can hide the glory of the light, but not the day. That the emulation of English and Scots to bee the Kings countrymen, [Page] thrust the honour on the Welch. That a Courtier neuer attaines his selfe knowledge but by report. That his best [...] is a hearne dogge. That many great men are [...] they know not their own Fathers. That loue is the [...] worme. That a woman is the effect of her owne first same. That to remember, to know, and to vnderstand, are three degrees not vnderstood. That country ambition is [...], for there is nothing aboue a man. That fighting i [...] a Seruingmans valour, martyrdom their Masters. That to liue long is to fill vp the daies wee liue. That the [...]ale of some mens religion reflects from their friends. That the pleasure of vice is indulgence of the present, for it endures but the acting. That the properreward of goodnesse is from within, the externall is pollicie. That good and ill is the crosse and pile in the game of life. That the soule is the lampe of the body, reason of the soule, religion of reason, faith of religion, Christ of faith. That circumstances are the atomies of policie, censure the being, action the life, but successe the ornament. That authoritie presseth downe with weight and is thought violence: policie trips vp the heeles and is called dexteritie. That this life is a throng in a narrow passage, hee that is first out finds ease, hee in the middle worst, hemb'd in with troubles, the hindmost that driues both our afore him, though not suffering wrong, hath his part in doing it. That God requires of our debts a reckoning, not payment. That heauen is the easiest purchase, for wee are the richer for the disbursing. That liberalitie should haue no obiect but the poore, if our minds were rich. That the misterie of greatnesse is to keep the inferior ignorant of it. That all this is no newes to a better wit.
That the Citie cares not what the Country thinks.
Newes from the very Country.
THat it is a fripery of Courtiers, Merchants, and others, which haue been in fashion, and are very neere worne out. That Iustices of peace haue the felling of vnderwoods, but the Lords haue the great falls. That Iesuits are like Apricocks, heretofore here and there one succour'd in a great mans house and cost deare, now you may haue them for nothing in euery cottage. That euery great vice is a Pike in a pond that deuoures vertues and lesse vices. That it is wholsomest getting a stomacke, by walking on your own ground: & the thriftiest laying of it at anothers table. That debtors are in London close prisoners, and here haue the libertie of the house. That Atheists in affliction, like blind beggers, are forced to aske though they know not of whom. That there are (God be thanked) not two such acres in all the country, as the Exchange and Westminster-hall. That only Christmas Lords know their ends. That w [...]omen are not so tender fruit, but that they doe as well and beare as well vpon beds, as plashed against walls. That our carts are neuer worse employed, than when they are wayted on by coaches. That sentences in Authors like haires in an horsetaile, concurre in one roote of beauty and strength, but being pluckt out one by one, serue onely for springes and snares. That both want and abundance equally aduance a rectified man from the world, as cotton and stones are both good casting for an hawke. That I am sure there is none of the forbidden fruit left, because we doe not all eat thereof. That our best three pilde mischiefe [Page] comes from beyond the sea, and rides post through the country, but his errand is to Court: That next to no wife and children, your owne wife and children are best pastime, anothers wife and your children worse, your wife and anothers children worst. That Statesmen hunt their fortunes, and are often at default: Fauorites course her and are euer in view. That intemperance is not so vnwholesome heere; for none euer saw Sparrow sicke of the pox. That here is no trechery nor fidelitie, but it is because here are no secrets. That Court motions are vp and down, our [...] circular: theirs like squibs cannot stay at the highest, nor returne to the place which they rose from, but vanish & we are out in the way, Ours like mill-wheels busie without changing place; they haue peremptorie fortunes, we vicissitudes.
Answer to the very Country Newes.
IT is thought heere, that man is the coole of time, and made dresser of his owne fatting. That the fine Sences are Cinque ports for temptation, the trafficke sinne, the Lieutenant Sathan, the custome tribute, soules. That the Citizens of the high Court grow rich by simplicitie: but those of London by simple craft. That life, death and time, doe with short cudgels dance the Matachiue. That those which dwell vnder the Zona Torrida, are troubled with more damps, than those of Frigida. That Policie and Superstition hath of late hir masque rent from her face, and she is found with a wry mouth and a stinking breath, and those that courted her hotly, hate her now in the same [Page] degree, or beyond. That nature too much louing her owne, becomes vnnaturall and foolish. That the soule in some is like an egge, hatched by a young pullet, who often rigging from her nest, makes hot and cold beget rottennesse, which her wanton youth will not beleeue, till the faire shell being broken, the stinke appeareth to profit others, but cannot her. That those are the wise ones, that hold the superficies of vertue, to support her contrary and all-sufficient. That clemencie within and without is the nurse of rebellion. That thought of the future is retired into the country, and time present dwels at Court. That I liuing neere the churchyard, where many are buried of the pest, yet my infection commeth from Spaine, and it is feared it will disperse further into the kingdome.
Newes to the Ʋniuersitie.
A Meere Scholler, is but a liue booke. Action doth expresse knowledge, better then words; so much of the soule is lost, as the body cannot vtter. To teach should rather be an effect, then the purpose of learning. Age decaies nature, perfects Arte: therefore the glory of youth, is strength of the gray head, wisdome; yet most condemne the follies of their owne infancie, runne after those of the worlds, and in reuerence of antiquitie will beare an old error against a new truth. Logick is the Heraldry of Arts, the array of iudgment; none it selfe, nor any science without it: where it and learning meet not, must bee either a skilfull ignorance, or a wilde knowledge. Vnderstanding cannot conclude out of moode and figure. Discretion conteines Rhetorique; the next way [Page] to learne good words, is to learne sense; the newest Philosophie is soundest, the eldest Diuinitie: Astronomie begins in nature, ends in magicke. There is no honestie of the body without health, which no man hath had since Adam. Intemperance that was the first mother of sicknesse, is now the daughter. Nothing dies but qualities. No kinde in the world can perish without ruine of the whole. All parts helpe one another (like States) for particular interest. So in arts which are but translations of nature. There is no sound position in any one, which, imagine false, there may not from it bee drawne strong conclusions, to disproue all the rest. Where one truth is granted, it may be by direct meanes brought to confirme any other controverted. The soule and body of the first man, were made fit to be immortall together, we cannot liue to the one, but we must dye to the other. A man and a Christian are two creatures. Our perfection in this world is vertue, in the next knowledge, when wee shall read the glory of God in his owne face.
Newes from Sea.
THat the best pleasure is to haue no obiect of pleasure, and vniformitie is a better prospect then varietie. That putting to Sea is change of life but not of condition: where risings and falls calmes and crossegales are yours in order and by turne, forewinds but by chance. That it is the worst winde to haue no winde, and that your smooth-fac'd Courtiers deading your course by a calme, giues greater impediment, then an open aduersaries crosse-gale. That leuitie is a vertue, for many are [Page] held vp by it That its nothing so intricate & infinite to rig a ship as a woman, and the more either is fraught, the apter to leake. That to pumpe the one and shreeue the other, is alike noysome. That small faults habituated are as dangerous as little leakes vnfound, and that to punish and not preuent, is to labour in the pumpe, and leaue the leake open. That it is best stricking saile before a storme, and necessariest in it. That a little time in our life is best, as the shortest cutt to our hauen is the happiest voyage. That to him that hath no Hauen no winde, is frendly, and yet it is better to haue no Hauen, then some kind of one. That expedition is euery where to bee bribed but at Sea. That gaine workes this miracle to make men walke vpon the water, and that the sound of commoditie drownes the noise of a storme, especially of an absent one. That I haue once in my life out gon night at Sea, but neuer darknesse: and that I shall neuer wonder to see a hard world, because I haue liued to see the Sunne a bankerout, being ready to starue for cold in his perpetuall presence. That a mans companions are (like ships) to be kept in distance, for falling foule one of another, only with my friend I will close. That the fairest field for a running head is the Sea, where he may runne himselfe out of breath, and his humor out of him. That I could carry you much further, and yet leaue more before then behind, and all will be but via Nauis, without print or tracke, for so is morall instruction to youthes watrish humor. That though a ship vnder saile bee a good sight, yet it is a better to see her moor'd in the Hauen. That I care not what become of this fraile Barcke of my flesh, so I saue the passenger. And heere I cast anchor.
Forrein Newes of the yeere 1604.
From France.
IT is deliuered from France that the choice of friends there is as of their wines, those that being new, are hard and harsh, proue best; the most pleasing are least lasting. That an enemie fierce at the first on set is as a torrent tumbling down a mountaine; a while it beares all before it, haue but that whiles patience you may passe it dry-foot. That a penetrating iudgment may enter into a mans minde by his bodies gate; if this appeare affected, apish, and vnstable; a wonder if that bee setled. That vaine-glory, new fashions and the French disease are vpon termes of quitting their Countries allegance to bee made free Denisons of England. That the wounds of ancient enmities haue their scars which cannot bee so well closed to the sight but they will lye open to the memorie. That a Princes pleasurable vices vshered by authoritie and waited on by conuinence, sooner punish themselues by the subiects imitation, then they can be reformed by remonstrance or correction, so apt are ill examples to rebound on them that giue them. That Kings heare truth oftener for the tellers then their owne aduantage.
From Spaine.
THat the shortest cutt to the riches of the Indies is by their contempt. That who is feared of most, feares most. That it more vexeth the proud that men despise them, then that they not feare them. That greatnesse is fruitfull enough, when other helpes faile, to beget on it selfe destruction. That it is a grosse flattering of tired crueltie to honest it with the title of clemencie. That to eat much at other mens cost and little at his own is the wholsomest and most nourishing dyet both in Court and country. That those are aptest to dominere ouer others who by suffering indignities haue learned to offer them. That ambition like a seeled Doue flies vp to fall downe, it mindes not whence it came but whither it will. That euen Gally-slaues setting light by their captiuitie, finde freedome in bondage. That to be slow in militarie businesses is to bee so courteous as to giue the way to an enemie. That lightning and greatnes more feare then hurt.
From Rome.
THat the venereall (called veniall) sinne is to passe in the rank of Cardinall vertues, and that those should bee held henceforth his Holinesse beneficiall frends that sin vpon hope of pardon. That where vice is a state-commoditie, hee is an offender that often offends not. That Iewes and Curtezans there, are as beasts that men feed to feed on. That for an Englishman to abide at Rome is not so dangerous as report makes it, since it skills [Page] not where we liue so wee take heed how we liue. That greatnesse comes not downe by the way it went vp, there being often found a small distance between the highest and the lowest fortunes. That tackt authoritie is oft lesse at home then abroad regarded, while things that seeme, are (commonly) more a far off then neere hand feared.
From Ʋenice.
THat the most profitable bancke is the true vse of a mans selfe, while such as grow mouldy in idlenesse make their houses their toombes and dye before their death. That many dangerous spirits lye buried in their wants, which had they meanes to their minds would dare as much as those that with their better fortunes ouer-top them. That professed Curtezans if they be any way good, it is because they are openly bad. That frugalitie is the richest treasure of an Estate, where men feed for hunger, clothe for cold and modestie, & spend for honor, charitie, and safetie.
From Germanie.
THat the infectious vice of drunken goodfellowship is like to sticke by that Nation as long as the multitude of offendors benums the sense of offending, and that a common blot is held no stayne. That discretions must bee taken by weight not taile: who doth otherwise, shall both prooue his owne too light and fall short of his reckoning. That feare and a nice forecast of euery sleight danger seldom giues either faithfull or fruitfull counsell. [Page] That the Empire of Germanie is not more great then that ouer a mans selfe.
From the Low Countries.
THat one of the surest grounds of a mans libertie is, not to giue another power ouer it. That the most dangerous plunge wherto to put thine enemie is desperation▪ while forcing him to set light by his owne life, thou makest him master of thine. That neglected danger lights soonest and heauiest. That they are wisest who in the likelyhood of good, prouide for ill. That since pitty dwells at the next doore to miserie, he liueth most at ease that is neighboured with enuie. That the euill fortune of the wars as well as the good is variable.
Newes from my Lodging.
THat the best prospect is to looke inward. That it is quieter sleeping in a good conscience then a whole skin. That a soule in a fat bodie lies soft, and is loth to rise. That he must rise betimes who would cosen the deuill. That Flatterie is increased from a pillow vnder the elbow, to a bed vnder the whole bodie. That Policie is the vnsleeping night of reason. That hee who sleepes in the cradle of securitie, sins soundly without starting. That guilt is the flea of the conscience. That no man is throughly awaked but by affliction. That a hang'd chamber in priuate is nothing so convenient as a hang'd Traitor in publique. That the religion of Papistry, is like a curtaine made to keep out the light. That the life of most [Page] women is walking in their sleepe, and they talke their dreames. That chambering is counted a ciuiler qualitie, then playing at tables in the Hall, though Seruingmen vse both. That the best bedfellow for all times in the yeere is a good bed without a fellow. That he who tumbles in a calme bed, hath his tempest within. That hee who will rise, must first lye downe, and take humilitie in his way. That sleep is deaths picture drawne to life, or the twilight of life and death. That in sleep wee kindly shake death by the hand, but when wee are awaked wee will not know him. That often sleeping are so many tryalls to die, that at last we may doe it perfectly. That few dare write the true newes of their chamber, and that I haue none secret enough to tempt a strangers curiositie, or a seruants discouerie. God giue you good morrow.
Newes of my morning worke.
THat to bee good is the way to bee most alone or the best accompanied. That the way to heauen is mistaken for the most melancholy walke. That most feare the worlds opinion more then Gods displeasure. That a Court friend seldom goes further then the first degree of charitie. That the deuill is the perfectest Courtier. That innocency was first cozen to man, now guiltinesse hath the neerest allyance. That sleep is deaths leger Embassador. That time can neuer bee spent: wee passe by it and cannot returne. That none can be sure of more time then an instant. That sin makes worke for repentance or the deuill. That patience hath more power then afflictions. That euery ones memorie is diuided into two parts: the [Page] part loosing all is the sea, the keeping part is land. That honestie in the Court liues in persecution like Protestants in Spaine. That predestination and constancie are alike vncerteine to be iudged of. That reason makes loue the Seruingman. That vertues fauour is better then a Kings fauorite. That being sick begins a sute to God, being well possesseth it. That health is the coach which caries to heauen, sicknes the post-horse. That worldly delights to one in extreame sicknes is like a hiecandle to a blind man. That absence doth sharpen loue, presence strengthens it, that the one brings fuell, the other blowes till it burnes cleere, that loue often breaks friendship, that euer increaseth loue. That constancie in women and loue in men is alike rare. That Arte is truths iugler. That falshood playes a larger part in the world then truth. That blinde zeale and lame knowledge are alike apt to ill. That fortune is humblest where most contemned. That no porter but resolution keeps feare out of minds. That the face of goodnes without a body is the worst wickednesse. That weomens fortunes aspire but by others powers. That a man with a female wit is the worst Hermaphrodite. That a man not worthy being a frend, wrongs himself by being an acquaintance. That the worst part of ignorance is making good and ill seem alike. That all this is newes onely to fooles.
Newes from the lower end of the Table.
IT is said among the folkes heere, that if a man dye in his infancie, he hath onely broke his fast in this world: If in his youth, hee hath left vs at dinner. That it is bed-time with a [Page] man at therescore and ten; and he that liues to a hundred yeeres hath walked a mile after supper. That the humble-minded man makes the lowest curtsie. That grace before meat is our election before we were; grace after, our saluation when we are gone. The soule that halts between two opinions, falls between two stooles. That a foole at the vpper end of the table is the bread before the salt. He that hates to be reproued sits in his owne light. Hunger is the cheapest sawce and nature the cheapest guest. The sensible man and the silent woman are the best discoursers. Repentance without amendment is but the shifting of a foule trencher: He that tells a lye to saue his credit, wipes his mouth with his sleeue to spare his napkin. The tongue of aiester is the fiddle that the bearts of the companie dance to. The tongue of a foole carues a peece of his heart to euery man sits next him. A silent man is a couered messe. The contented man onely is his owne caruer. Hee that hath many friends eats too much salt with his meat. That wit without discretion cuts other men meat and his own fingers. That the soule of a cholericke man sits euer by the fire side. That patience is the larde to the leane meat of aduersitie. The Epicure puts his money into his belly, and the miser his belly into his purse. That the best companie makes the vpper end of the table, and not the saltseller. The supersluitie of a mans possessions is the broken meat that should remaine to the poore. That the enuious keeps his knife in his hand and swallowes his meat whole. A rich foole among the wise is a gilt empty bowle among the thirstie. Ignorance is an insensible hunger. The water of life is the best wine. He that robs mee of my invention bids himselfe welcome to another mans table, and I will bid him welcome when he is gone. The vaine-glorious man pisseth more then hee drinkes. That no man can drinke a health out of the cup of blessing. To surfet vpon wit is more dangerous then to want it. He that's ouercome of any [Page] passion is dry drunke. Tis easier to fill the belly of faith, then the eye of reason. The rich glutton is better fed then taught. That faith is the elbow for a heauy soule to leane on. Hee that sins that he may repent, surfets that he may take physicke. He that riseth without thanksgiuing, goes away and payes not for his ordinarie. He that begins to repent when he is old, neuer washed his hands till night. That this life is but one day of three meales, or one meale of three courses, childhood, youth, and old age. That to sup well is to liue well, and that's the way to sleep well. That no man goes to bed till hee dyes, nor wakes till he is dead. And therfore
Nowes from the Bed.
THat the bed is the best rendevou of mankind, and the most necessarie ornament of a chamber. That Souldiers are good antiquaries in keeping the old fashion, for the first bed was the bare ground. That a mans pillow is his best counseller. That Adam lay in state when the heauen was his canopie. That the naked truth is Eue, and Eue lay without sheetes. That they were either very innocent, very ignorant, or very impudent, they were not ashamed the heauens should see them lye without a couerlet. That it is likely Eue studied Astronomie, which makes the posteritie of her sex euer since to lye on their backs. That the circumference of the bed is nothing so wide as the convex of the heauens, yet it containes a [Page] whole world. That the fiue sences are the greatest sleepers. That a slothfull man is but a reasonable Dormouse. That the soule euer wakes to watch the body. That a Iealous man sleeps dog-sleep. That sleep makes no difference between a wise-man and a foole. That for all times sleep is the best bedfellow. That the deuill and mischiefe euer wake. That loue is a dreame. That the preposterous hopes of ambitious men are like pleasing dreames, farthest off when awake. That the bed payes Venus more custome then all the world beside. That if dreames and wishes had been all true, there had not been since Popery one maide to make a Nun of. That the secure man sleeps soundly and is hardly to be wak't. That the charitable man dreames of building Churches, but starts to thinke the vngodly Courtier will pull them down again. That great sleepers were neuer dangerous in a state. That there is a naturall reason why popish Priests chuse the bed to confesse their women vpon, for they hold it necessarie that humiliation should follow shrift. That if the bed should speake all it knowes, it would put many to the blush. That it is fit the bed should know more then paper.