IS one of Sampson's Foxes, that carries fire in the tail, to destroy the standing corn, She goes under the name of a decayed Gentlewoman; and indeed she is gentle e­nough, a half Crown will make her come to hand. The Devil and she are co-partners in undoing, for one spoiles the body, the other the soul. Turn-up she affects above all roots in the Garden. She cares not for the Bridewell, having lain often at the com­mon [Page 55] Ward. Her walk is Co­vent-Garden; and her Ex­change a Tavern. He that goes to salute her, is decei­ved, for she is very coy of her lips, and therefore bul­warks them about with paint. Her breath stinkes worse then a Bear-garden; her furniture consists of a Playster-box, a Periwig, and a Looking-glass; besides a Pimp, which she accounts one of her necessary imple­ments. She is a she-Bias, and can say, Omnia mea mecum porto. She is a preservative against a hard frost; and a Regiment of them will beg­gar Newcastle, for they carry [Page 56] fire about them. Her chil­dren, if any, are like wind­falls, and found in the Kings high-way. She is not ambi­tious, but delights in fallings; yet by her falling her Stalli­ons rise. She is a hackney Jade, and lets every foole ride her; a Barbers chaire, as soon as one is out, another is in. She is a very Butcher, and sells her flesh by the stone; one may buy her a­whole at the price of damna­tion. She is like a Medlar, ne­ver ripe till rotten; like Ca­momile, she thrives the bet­ter the more she is trod. A­bout thirty she is in her Ze­nith, and then from thence [Page 57] she declines; for the pox, or rotten teeth, &c. will write her stale, or ugly, and trading will decay; and then her on­ly preferment is the degree of a Bawd, where three Strong-water bottles, an ounce of Tobacco, and two Countrey Wenches, sets her up; and she drives a trade till Shrove-tuesday; and a Cart and a bunch of Turnips is the re­ward of her labours; and the Bridewell the limbo of both body and bones.

WAs sometimes a Gen­tleman of Fortunes, but being cast over-board by his own riot or folly, layes hold of the next thing he meets with. He is begot like a Mule, between a Courtier and a Citizen, but turns Par­ricide to both. No aire nips him so much as a West winde coming from the Parliament-House, for that brings him to the Falling-sickness; the Re­publique and his re-private never are in conjunction; but [Page 59] like Castor and Pollux, when one sets the other riseth. He is an excellent Alchymist, and can draw Gold out of Sope, Candles, and Marrow-bones, and what not? Nothing an­gers him so much as the sound of a Reformation; for then he is projecting to pro­cure a Patent to hang him­self. Like a Louce, he shrowds on the shoulders of Great­ness; for that is his main protection. All honest men shun his company, and he theirs; in which regard you may call him a Separatist. His walk is Westminster-hall, or the Court, with his hand­full of Papers, because he [Page 60] would be taken for a man of note. The Monopolist and he, like Hippocrates twins, both live and die together. In his chamber his Glass and he are in a deep consultation, how to set his face that it may go even with the times; like a Watch, whereof his tongue is the Alarum. His pretences are faire, for the benefit and ease of the Subject; To re­form some grievance (mean­ing his own poverty;) to in­crease Trade, (meaning of Patentees) and to prevent disorders; to which he rather adds a saile then a ballast. He has little skill in the Law, but onely in the penall Sta­tutes, [Page 61] and that in a defensive way to play the knave in a circle, and yet keep out of their bounds to prevent hanging: and less in the Go­spel, unless to fish by Peter's example, for such fish as have Money in their mouths. His Religion is commonly but skin-deep, it may appear in his countenance, but it never comes near his heart; 'tis writ upon changeable Taffa­ta, for good and lawfull con­siderations; his Religion and his Practice make him like the new invented Pictures, one way an Angel, another way a Devil. All his life is a continued Cataline's Conspi­racy; [Page 62] he and the Common­wealth are like two feet, if one rise, the other falls; if both chance to rise together, 'tis but a leap, that the fall may be the greater. He feeds upon new Projects; his drink is the tears of the poor La­bourers; and commonly his Livery is the ruine of some Corporation. His disease lies in his ears, for he is common­ly infected with a Pillory; which at last comes into his neck, and Tiburne ends him; where his onely glory is, that he died for the Common­wealths good.

IS one that makes Heaven bow to Earth; he placeth his summum bonum in Earths felicity, and depends on no other Providence but the reach of his own brain. His Religion is but the vizard of his policy; and whatever vertue he has, craft is the keeper of it. His looks are candid, and hypocrisie is the onely Saint he adores. All his discourses are obscure and ambiguous; like the De­vils in the Delphick Oracle; [Page 64] you may understand the words, but not the meaning. He is like an Aspen-tree, e­very winde of Greatnesse blowes him, and he bends. Is his Prince valourous? he is daring; covetous? he is sparing; lascivious? he is wanton; religious? he pre­tends much; his heart is a Theatre, wherein all hu­mours are presented, and his face pantomimicall. He is of that mans Religion, with whom he talks; a Caesarean, a Pompeian, which soever pre­vails; he'l cry, Ʋp with them, and, Down with them, all in a breath. Like a Water-man, he looks one way and rowes [Page 65] another; or like a Lapwing, keeps most noise when she is farthest from her nest; or a cunning Fencer, that seldom makes a blow without a fal­sifie; suller of Questions then Answers; rather desiring to know anothers secrets, then bewray his own. Pleasures he is not much delighted in, but onely like the Dog at Nilus, laps as he runs, for fear of the Crocodile. Every one that he deals with, he suppo­seth hath the Master-reach in cunning; and therefore still carries both eyes open. His sight is strong enough to ap­prehend dangers in Embrio, and so quells them before [Page 66] shape or form make them ter­rible. If a Contract blow fa­vourably, he hoiseth sailes, and with it steers his Voy­age; if a cross gale comes to his main under-ground De­sign, he thrusts out the Oars of fair Pretences through the Port-holes of his conseience. He would be accounted eve­ry mans friend, that he might know his secrets. All his a­ctions are tipped with fair Pretences, yet are directed to himself; and therefore looks no higher. Whatever his Theam be, his Applica­tion is his own ends: yet he is often contented to do any cheap courtesies; and makes [Page 67] himself very joyfull and hap­py in an opportunity, so as he be sure to be no loser by it. His cap and knee, his smiles and good words, are all at a minutes warning, to be dealt about on all occasi­ons. In a word, he is one that loves no man, but with a re­servation; nor will trust any; nor indeed any wise man him, farther then he sees him.

IS a Hogs-head set on two stumps, fit for no use but to hold Liquor; the Tavern only is his ubi and the proper place of his residence; any other where he is like a Fish out of the water, who doth nothing but gape. He thinks Nature gave him a mouth, not to speak, but to drink off his Liquor, for that is the main use he puts it to; he drinks not to live (as Nature commands) but lives to drink. Of all the Miracles [Page 69] that ever Christ did, he thinks none so meritorious for the salvation of his soul, as the turning water into Wine; and he in imitation can work a miracle too; for he can turn a whole Shop of Wares into a Pint-pot. His onely enquiry is, where dwells the best Sack or Claret? You shall finde him and his Tribe about the declining part of the day, at rendezvous, like a Constellation fixt in the lo­wer Region of a known Ta­vern; where their noses ap­pear like Comets, and por­tend drough; there they are accommodated with a pri­vate Room, a half-Pint, some [Page 70] clean Pipes, and a Jordan. Their first Discourse is a ge­nerall Vote about the good­ness of the Wine; the next paire of half-Pints produces News; where each puffs o­ver the inside of a Diurnal; but for want of that, the main Scene is, who were drunk the night before, and how they reel'd home. They are internally Pharisees, and very exact in making clean the inside of the Glass; their strictest Criticisme is, Drink off your Cup. At last, when it strikes twelve, they make a liquor'd Reckoning, drink their Wives Health, in whose defence they are dutifully [Page 71] drunk, till they lose their owne; and then they stag­ger home to bed, and finde it in small beer in the mor­ning.

IS a lump of combustible ig­norance, whom the least spark of newes fires into a blaze of unlikely conjectures; he measures all the designs of Foraign News by the line of Stow's Chronicle; which he never hears read, but out flies a piece of nonsense, which he miscalls State-policy, able to [Page 72] confound Machiavel. He much haunts the Posthouse to note into what forms men concoct their faces at the reading of Letters; he frequents the Ex­change in the Postmeridian hours, because then men em­pty themselves of intelli­gence; his only factorage is news; viewing a Bill of Ex­change, he swears 'tis a Libell. Tell him of a Curranto and he's in Heaven; he takes an Almanack of foul weather for one of Merlin's Prophesies. Upon hearing of a Victory, or loss of a Sconce, he is enra­ged, and blames the State that he was not a Generall; he extolls the Low-Countreys [Page 73] Government above any Mo­narchy, because the fat Citi­zens rule the roast; he holds it impossible for the State e­ver to be ruined, because it swims in Butter. His face is a piece of Stenography, where all Bicheliews designs are writ in short-hand. He keeps a common place-book of hard State-words, which though nor he nor his English Dictio­nary understand, he after an Aldermans Plumb-broth Feast spews out among the learned Fraternity; and is therefore slander'd with the name of a Politician, and he turns Here­tick and believes it; for they had rather ignorantly admire [Page 74] his speeches, then go to the price of understanding them. All the passages he hears are Stratagems; if he hear but a Ballad, he smells Treason in it; he cannot endure Plays, be­cause there are Plots in them; ask him a question, you un­dermine him; answer him with silence, he takes you for a State Informer; he tells news by tale, not by weight. There is no way to strike him dumb but drawing out your Table-Book; every man is a fool that is not of his opinion, but he takes him for an undoubt­ed wise man that applauds his conjectures; he seldome approves any thing that he [Page 75] understands, and yet he ap­proves most things; he medi­tates on an old Manuscript more then the Pentateuch; he wonders why the Apocalyps is put in the end of the Bible, and thinks it a disgrace; he takes Brightman for a better Interpreter then Daniel; he cuts the Apocrypha out of his Bible, for fear of infection; yet cannot tell why he hates it, but because 'tis Apocrypho; and thinks Solomon but a fool in suffering his wisdom to be put there. Monarchy he can­not abide, but says 'tis against Christian Liberty; but thinks Anarchy is as old as the Chaos. He takes Malchus's Servant [Page 76] to be a Saint, because he had his ear cut; yet thinks him not right of his opinion, be­cause he had one left. He takes Peter for a Popish Bishop, because he cut off that eare. Where'ere the Scripture says strive, he takes it for fighting; that makes him so in love with Civill War. Among his Superiours he is dumb; to his inferiours deaf; the one he offends by silence, the other by prating; to both he is ri­diculous. In a word, he is the State Incendiary, the Cities bane, and Kings evil.

IS one of those rash Servants that will not let the Wheat and the Tares grow together; but crops off his haire, or ra­ther weeds it up, lest it should hinder the growth of his ears, that when the harvest of tri­bulation comes, they may be reaped by handfulls for good Considerations. He thinks it impossible to be saved if ones haire transcends his teeth in longitude. He is in the head an Hermaphridite, between a Frier and a Turk, the one [Page 78] shaves round the head, the o­ther the crown, he both; he hopes to be pulled up to Hea­ven by the ears, like a pitcher. He is a Papist turn'd the wrong side outwards, and so strongly denies their tenets, that he grants their maximies; his Religion and theirs run round in a circle till they meet. He is fallen out with Learning so, that he thinks ignorance his main saving grace; and would be content to speak no Language but sanctified Bulls, but that the Pope useth them; he stands much for Christian liberty, yet will tie all men from the use of ceremonies; free-will he [Page 79] cries down in a Papist, yet maintains that a Protestant may do what he please. All his discourse is the sand of zeal bound together without the lime of reason; for he calls that humane Traditions, and protests the Brethren do not use it. You cannot vex him more, then to tell him his soul is Gods Image; for he hates idolatry. To speak Lan­guages (he saith) is to glory in the confusion of Babel; and to talk sense, is to advance carnall reason above the Spirit. He wears his soul, as a Gallant that has put on his Periwig the back part foremost; for whereas his will should be [Page 80] judicious, his judgement is wil­full. He flies humane Learning as from a Serpent; three words of Latine will give him nine stools. His knowledge, how small soever, never sinks into his heart, but only swims in his brain; standing bare at a Sermon makes his zeal catch cold, and that brings snuffling in the nose. He is one of the Attorneys of Dovers Court; and can with more patience talk five hours, then hear one. In company he is excellent Physick; for he will either purge your gall with anger, or your spleen with laughter. A­gainst every new meeting, he takes in store of new Argu­ments [Page 81] to maintain some new­fangled opinion; which when he vents, his proselytes are ra­vish'd with admiration, and thinke him inspired with strange revelations, that he can speake English and they not under stand him. He will cross the Kings High-way ra­ther then view a Cross there. Aristotle was never so corrup­ted with Dutch Comments, as the Scripture is with his; his brain is like the puddle at Ox­ford, into which Aristotle's Well dischannels it self, and becomes stinking water. When he takes a Bishop in his mouth, 'tis in that sense as a Wolf takes a Lamb; not [...], [Page 82] but simpliciter. Tell him of a High Commission, and he holds his ears, and says there is a mystery in that Posture. Set but his zeal on fire, and it will flame, though it smo­ther a Kingdome; the only way to confute him is silence or laughter. He is all for In­dependant Church Govern­ment, yet wishes all the Or­thodox Clergie hang'd. He holds a Stable as holy as a Church; but holds a Chamber holier then both, if it be well furnished; that is, with a Bed and a Sister; and then he cares not how long he stands. He that would draw the cha­racter of his Religion, had [Page 83] need have a Map of all the Earth, and of Hell too, where his Principles are deeply roo­ted. He will not believe that Christ ever descended into Hell, but intends to take a Journey thither himself to dispute with the Devil. There let him go for me.

IS one that Nature made while the World was in a Chaos, and therefore detests order ab origine. He dares use his tongue against Heaven; but scarce his hands against a Butterfly. Is he sober? his care is how to be drunk, is he drunk? his next task is how to shift the reckoning. All his Discourses are butter'd with Oaths, which he uses Eupho­niae gratiâ. He has worn out all his friends, but the Hang­man; and all his Apparell, but [Page 85] his Sword; which he hacks sometimes against a Mantle­post, and swears he has been in a desperate encounter; co­ming from a Bawdy-house, he swears he has been in hot service, though his courage be soon taken down. Two French postures he has natu­rally, viz. to have his Flanks and his haire fall off; which last defect he supplies with the mercenary Auxiliaries, a Periwig. His face speaks him no true Subject, because of its frequent risings; to which Rebels his nose is Standard­bearer, and carries the colours. His common Notion or Title­page is a Low-countrey Souldier; [Page 86] under which vizard he boasts of Victories and Adventures which he heard discoursed of at the last Tavern. He sets his faith to sale, and cries, Who will give most? His Loyalty lasts no longer then his Money. His threats are like Thunder-claps, or the motions of Mountains; and if a blow be brought forth, 'tis like a Mouse; in the midst of his fury, if you care not for his menaces, nor fear his blows, he will shake hands with you. 'Twere fearfull if his valour were as great as his wickedness; or if his power e­choed his will. Though he be an Infidell himself, he [Page 87] would have others believe his Oaths when he promiseth payment. You cannot do him a greater discourtesie, then to make his Chyrurgeon drunk, for then he bewrays his secrets. He keeps good quarter with his Landress, lest she should discover the spots of his conversation. The first thing he does in morn­ing, is to bid a Pox take those Fleas that bit him at night; which is sure to be granted; and the last thing he doth at night, is to curse the Gentle­man that cudgell'd him that day. In the morning, imita­ting the Sun immediately af­ter his rise, he passes into an [Page 88] Ale-house; or if he can get one to spend for him, to a Tavern; so passes from signe to signe, through a whole Zo­diack in a day, till he comes to Aquarius; and then goes by water to a Bawdy-house, and comes out by fire. He believes there is no Signe of Virgo left in the World. In the end you shall finde him kick'd by his Companions for having no Money about him, which he swears is in his other pockets, when as he has but only one Suit; and that is threadbare before the Taylor is paid. Thus when he has gone his round, and been abused by his Compani­ons [Page 89] for abusing them, he reels into the mouths of the Watch, and from thence is rowled into the Counter; where to his credit, many great Actions are imputed to him.

IS a Volume of Rime com­posed by the hand of non­sense; or a musicall Instru­ment, not yet tun'd. An Ale-house he accounts the only Helicon; and the Ale-drapers Wife one of the nine Muses. His wit runs thick or clear, like the Ale-barrell. He is a second Charon; for none are wafted over by the way of Tiburn, but he receives money for their passage. He exceed­ingly longs for blazing Stars, Earthquakes, Dearths, or [Page 91] strange accidents. The Bre­thren keep constant corres­pondency with him, that he may compose their Libels in­to Metre; and being whipt or Pillory'd for it, he rejoy­ceth, saying that he suffers for the truth. His Compani­ons call him Poet at every word, but 'tis in a jeer; and being patient to bear all slan­ders, believes it, and bears it. Call him Goose or Wood-cock, he is enraged; but yet had rather eat your words, then you should. He is sensi­ble of no Argument but beat­ing; and that alone drives him out of your company. He is in pay by the Countrey [Page 92] Wenches, to write Love Sto­ries to lamentable Tunes, which they sing to the Cows, and make them weep milky tears to hear them. His com­mon Vaticans where his Books are preserved, are the windows and walls of an Ale-house in the Countrey. He like the Emblematists, is be­holden to an Engraver; but only his Wood carver hath certain common Places; a man and a woman serve like Panpharmacons, for all occasi­ons. He is a dutifull Son of the Church, and loves no in­novations in Musicks; but they go like Hopkins and Wis­dom, to the Tune of the same. [Page 93] He is in no better cue to write a lamentable Story, then when he is Mawdlen-drunk; his brain is the common-shore of Poetry; the streams which he sucks from Poets, he de­files with the muddy stinking puddles of his Additions. There is many a man is made a Martyr by his Elegies; wherein his Encomiasticks per­secute the very ashes, and hy­pocritically tear the dead bo­dy of Hercules with a smiling countenance. In a word; he is the Suburbs of a Poet; whose Sepulchre is the Stocks, and his Monument a Pillory.

HE is, I dare not say a Man, nor Boy; but in the Parenthesis of both; yet he thinks onely a beard is wanting to proclaim his manhood; because he has ta­ken up Womens Smocks, he writes sumptâ virili togâ, when indeed his wit is hardly out of the clouts. He is an Ape, that imitates both, but wan­ting the wit of the one, acts naturally the folly of the o­ther. He thinks himself of [Page 95] deep judgement, yet has nothing deep about him, but the pits of his nose; which makes him boast of hills and dales in his own possession. He affects two contraries; for he will be a laughing-stock to good company, where his highest ambition is to be told he talks like an Apothecary; or else is the Bell­weather of children, fools, or Frenchmen; who have nei­ther English enough to re­prove his nonsense, nor to approve his no-wit; but pas it over for jests by ignorant laughter. He is an ignis fa­tuus to mislead fools by a shi­ning nothing that is in him [Page 96] or a blazing Star placed in the lower Regions of a Ta­vern; and a Cup in his brain portends the birth of some prodigious Conceit. To in­gratiate himself into good company, he keeps constantly in pay a Regiment of jests and hard words, to salute their ears with a volley of non­sense; which if they be not grac'd with laughter, he is non-suited. But being dis­roabed of this store, he whi­spers them of a Wench; and rather then want imploy­ment, will turn Pimp. You cannot please him unless you praise him; nor praise him, unless you flatter him, It is [Page 97] his summuni bonum to move laughter; and if his jests will not do it, his gesture must; if neither, you may laugh at the Jestor. He most com­monly procures friendship with some wit, whom he en­joyns to be the foreman in the peale of laughter; who both to his face, and behind his back, laughs at him. Much he affects to speak some Fo­raigne Language, because in all his Discourse he would over-reach the capacity of an Englishman. He whispers How d'you, as if 'twere Trea­son, in the ears of any new acquaintance, to make o­thers thinke he is privie to [Page 98] their secrets. He alwaies de­tracts from other mens worth behind their backs; as if he knew by instinct others dis­praised him; and it goes hard if a man wears any clothes, but he will pick a hole in his coat. He hath not exchanged two words with Nature in love (I had almost said since he was of understanding) be­cause she made him so low, that he cannot overlook o­ther mens actions; but to help this defect, he hath got­ten the faculty of taking the wall of his betters; having nothing in himself worth this knowledge; he scorns noscere seipsum. The thing is some­times [Page 99] Poeticall wherein he casts up his ignorance, to make it seem of high ac­count; he writes like the Egyptian darkness, wherein he shews cunning; for when men laugh at his Verses, he may say they laugh at they know not what; and can boast of more then any Mo­dern Poet, that he writes a­bove humane apprehension. He carries such a deep con­ceit of his own conceits, that he thinks no man worthy to understand them; nay he is such a nigard, that he grud­geth himself the benefit. The Subject of his Fancy is himself; wherein he truly [Page 100] shews himself poeticall, if Fi­ctions can do. He mislikes every man after the first ac­quaintance; nay grows wea­ry of his native Countrey, and will travell; and his a­ctions and carriage therein, not tongue can express but his own, for he may lie by Au­thority. Himself is gone be­yond the limits of my Paper, where my Pen nor can nor will follow him.

HE is a gaudy Vacuum, gilded over with a few hard words, which he ima­gines to have a deep mean­ing, because his dull sense cannot dive into it; which with much pains he has wee­ded from Authors, and pla­ced in Garison in a common place-book, that he might draw out a Regiment of Re­cruits when his wit is routed. His Discourse is a Line of Sand, or a composition of so [Page 102] many foot and half-words, which being put together, spell non-sense. He admits not a word into his Society, under the degree of a Tetra­silable; and takes all Dis­course by measure, not weight. He were the only man to be Minshew's Son, and compose another Dicti­onary of hard words, had he but wit enough to spell them, or learning to tell their signi­fication. Yet he thinks his nose a Jacobs Staff, able to calculate the height of any mans fancy. By his tedious Discourses of Herauldry, he would make you believe he were a Gentleman. And to [Page 103] gain Honour, he dares be a Souldier; and hath taken up Arms on his Signet, for de­fence of his little finger; but intends only to fight by the Heraulds Book, where his va­lour will be seen by the mi­serable hanging, drawing, and quartering of his inno­cent Coat. He had been pre­ferred to a Trumpeters place, but that he could sound no Alarm, but his own praise. Had he but Poetry, he would out-vaper Ben; but he'l not speak a Verse, lest they should be taken for children of his own begetting, and known by their long legs. Besides his speeches are so masterless, [Page 104] they think it against the Li­berty of the Subject to be chained in a Verse. In his Arguments his Solutions are more intricate then the Que­stion; and that man needs a deep reach that would define his definition. After many Pleonasmes and Circumlocuti­ons, he is delivered at length of a non-sequitur; yet makes no Conclusion, for his Dis­course is endless. You may be sick of a Consumption, and cured before he hath finished a Complement; and 'tis a won­der if the Palsey in his tongue procure not the frenzie in his head. Shews he prefers before substance; and esteems an Al­choran [Page 105] in Folio before a poc­ket Bible. He useth much to discommend himself; which we must interpret as a praise, the clean contrary way; yet rather then lose a drop of his praise, he will lick it up with his own tongue. The way to gain his favour, is neither to understand him, nor be un­derstood by him; he will then applaud the depth of your judgement; for it is his property to think nothing deep, unless it be muddy. He accounts no man rich in wit, that does not gingle with it in every fooles company; he thinks not that a mans Ware­house may be full, whose [Page 106] Shop is empty; and a Foun­tain of Learning in that head, where there is no channell in the tongue. He would fain be a Philosopher, for he is very peripateticall; and because his wit is bald, he Periwigs it with stolne Comings, which he calls his own, because he bought them, and saith he studied hard for them; but it was onely to remember them; and if by chance any word do put out his head in company, and is not concei­ved, he'l swear 'tis an admi­rable conceit. Because he is tall, he thinks his fancy is predominant, and therefore is apt to insult over any short [Page 107] man, though he hath more understanding. He thinks every man barren of Worth, that has not his tongue tip­ped with selfe-praise; and those unacquainted with wit, that have not their fancies writ in their faces, perspicu­ous to every Reader. He is mighty glad if he be in com­pany with a fool, and thinks him his foyle, though indeed he be his Looking-glass. From the ruines of good Buildings he erects the Babels of his own conceit, and enriches his brain; which indeed is no other but a confusion of Lan­guages, where scarce one syl­lable understands another. [Page 108] In the Church we must look for him in the highest Pew; but I am loth to stay his co­ming out, lest he offend my stomack with some tedious Paraphrase upon the Sermon; but there I leave him praying against a handsom Wife, lest he be made a Cuckold; and against a witty Companion, lest he be made a Coxscomb.

HIs principall humour shall be my excuse; that is, inconstancy; 'tis hard to draw his Picture, that will not settle his countenance; therefore expect it rather in a Landskip then Statua. He is unsetled both in his actions and opinions; which shews his fancy to predominate in him, rather then judgement; yet can it not be denied, but that he is master of a sound [Page 110] judgement, but he makes others, not himself the sub­ject of it; being better able to inform others, then re­form his life; and more able to declaim against others vi­ces, then reclaim his own. His anger is more active then hot, rather scorching then burning; soon kindled, and as soon quencht. And though that man must needs make a strange combustion in the State of his soul, that upon the landing of every Cockboat sets the Beacons on fire; yet because his Reason stands Centinell, 'tis rather a disor­der then a mutiny. Vertue he [Page 111] more gazeth after then fol­lows; or if he do follow, it is rather with his tongue then feet; choosing to talk with her sooner then walke after her; and prefers a dram of Theoricks before a pound of Practicks. At the Game of unlawfull Pleasures he had rather be an Actor then a Spe­ctator; seldom forsaking them till teeth like he be forced to drop off through too much satiety. Melancholy he will be in the midst of mirth; cer­tainly when he and his se­rious thoughts meet toge­ther (for they are strangers) they are excellent company. [Page 112] Venus he esteems above all the seven Planets; but had rather worship her in a Baw­dy-house then in any of the twelve Celestiall Signes. In his Materials he is a Gentle­man; but Fortune hath cast him in the City Mould. No doubt but age will reclaim his unstay'dness; 'tis no great fault in a young Horse to use unreasonable mounting. To his friends he is rather for­mall then reall; apt to trust them with his person, not secrets. In a falling out of two friends, he will rather side with one, then bring both agreed; which is an [Page 113] Index of some indiscretion; thereby he being sure of two friends, to make one his ene­my. He is no stranger to Poe­try, which is Musick in words; nor to Musick, which is Poe­try in sound; yet rather makes them his Sauce then Meat. For Logick, which gives Speech substance; or Rhetorick, which gives it Beauty; or Grammar, which gives a Tongue to Speech it self; he has only ta'ne a cur­sory view of the first of the three; but has ruminated on the two last. But lest I make my Garment to big for the Body which I took measure [Page 114] of; and being something in haste, I conclude with his own Proverb, By—I cannot stay.

WE will onely take a cursory view of him as he is in company, being not yet so unhappy to know him farther; but we may guess at the bulk of Hercules by his foot. He is a confused lump moulded when Nature did all things in the dark; a Cub of the Chaos not lick'd into form, rowled from Ta­vern to Tavern onely to be drunk and laught at; where [Page 116] he grunts out words as ill­shap'd and gross as his per­son; and if his speeches do chance to quarrell, you must take them as they fall out. His body is built like Babel, but never with an intent to reach Heaven; the Work­men were confounded, and put Morter where Gold should be. His ordinary Dis­course is only scurrility and profaness in a miscellany, boyled together in huge quantities of Sack, which he carves to his friends as prime Dainties. Rather then his Jests shall want fire, he will light them at Gods Altar; [Page 117] and though a Conceit grow on the Banks of Hell, he will adventure to fetch it; not ca­ring to gain his Conceit, though he lose his soul. In company he monopolizeth all the Discourse to himself; not regarding if his tongue keep on a gallop before, how far his understanding loyters behind. Sometimes his Wit stumbles on a Jest, as he that shoots thick, sometimes may hit; and then you will do him a great discourtesie, if you do not laugh; but the main body of his Discourse is a Wild-goose chase after some printed wit, which he [Page 118] cannot catch. When he speaks, 'tis not the motion of his tongue, but the rat­ling of his brains; and 'tis worth our wonder, that his belly should be so full, and head so empty; but the ful­ness of the one is the empti­ness of the other. His belly, like the great Fish, eats up all the rest of his limbs, yet his wit is as fat as that. He has spent much time in travell to learn to be an Ass; all that he has seen is the Tun at Ha­dleburgh, which he studies to imitate; and all that he hath brought away, is the exact managing of his Fork at Ta­ble. [Page 119] He walks in the streets like a Rundlet of Sack on two posts; and where'ere he goes, he carries a fool with him. His study is old Jests and Tales; his recreation, Drinking; and his main oc­cupation is Wenching. But I fear I have been too long in his company; by this time he is drunk, 'tis time to leave him lest he spue in our faces.

IS one of the blades of Corn that springs from the Ilian ruines, whose ears grow up for the Harvest of a Pilory. His Profession is originally like a Cuckow, from the Nest of another Trade; where he has learned wrangling and knavery enough in his own Causes to spoil another mans. With the sweetned Ingredi­ents of City fraud he com­pounds himself (though sim­ple enough) for any villany. [Page 121] He is truly said to follow a Cause; but a small Bribe will lame him so, that he will ne­ver come near it. He is one of Sampson's Foxes, that fires all about him; but that his fire is generally in his nose, as well as his tail. His ambi­tion is so low, not to have his Chamber in an Innes of Court, but in an Ale-house of the City; a Tavern is his form, and licking of Pots his Law. Most of his Actions are Assaults, or Slanders; which are broach'd where his Ale is, in a Cellar; and after a long circumstance, center themselves where they be­gun; [Page 122] where his foolish Cli­ent, being weary of his fruit­less endless Suit, and repent­ing the idle expence of his Money for an imaginary va­ [...]num, called getting the day; like the Chymist, that blows away his Silver and Lungs, for that Fools (rather then Philo­sophers) Stone; do's by his wholsom advice, when his Money is spent, refer his Suit to Arbitrators and Ʋmpires; whose Verdict is, after long debate, A Supper for them­selves, at the equall charge of both Parties; That both must be sony for what they have done (as they have [Page 123] good cause) and sit down by their losses. He seldom gets any considerable prefer­ment, but among Fish-wives or Watermen, or in a Countrey Village, where all stand in awe of him, and slander him with the Title of Master Lawyer. Ignorance and beggary makes him resolute, that he dares thrust his head into any em­ployment. At last, having run through the Zodiack of all Courts, if he scape the preferment of the Gallows, he casts Anchor in a Goal, or a Bridewell; and there we leave him.