Characters of vertues and vices in two bookes: by Ios. Hall.

Characters of vertues and vices in two bookes: by Ios. Hall.

Table of contents

Title page

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A PREMONITION of the Title and Vse of Characters.

THE SVMME OF the whole.

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Title page

The Prooeme.

CHARACTER of the WISE MAN.

The Characterisme of an Honest man.

The Characterism of the Faithfull man.

Of the Humble man.

The Character of a Valiant man.

The Patient man.

The True Friend.

Of the Truly-Noble.

Of the Good Magistrate.

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Title page

The Prooeme.

The Hypocrite.

The Characterism of the Busie-Bodie.

The Superstitious.

Characterisme of the Profane.

The Characterism of the Male-content.

The Vnconstant.

The Flatterer.

The Slothfull.

The Couetous.

The Vaine-glorious.

The Presumptuous.

The Distrustfull.

The Characterism of the Ambitious.

The Vnthrift.

The Enuious.

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[Page] CHARACTERS OF VERTVES AND VICES: In two Bookes: By IOS. HALL.

LONDON, Printed by Melch. Bradwood for Eleazar Edgar and Samuel Macham, and are to be sold at the sign of the Bul-head in Pauls Church-yard. ANNO 1608.

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[Page] [Page] TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE MY SINGVLAR GOOD LORDS, EDWARD LORD DENNY BARON OF WALTHAM, AND IAMES LORD HAIE HIS RIGHT NOBLE AND WORTHY SONNE IN LAVV, I. H. HVMBLY DEDICATES HIS LABOR, DEVOTETH HIMSELFE, WISHETH ALL HAPPINESSE.

A PREMONITION of the Title and Vse of Characters.

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READER,

THe Diuines of the olde Heathens were their Morall Philosophers: These receiued the Acts of an inbred law, in [Page] the Sinai of Nature, and deliuered them with manie expositions to the multitude: These were the Ouerseers of maners, Correctors of vices, Directors of liues, Doctors of vertue, which yet taught their people the body of their naturall Diuinitie, not after one maner; while some spent themselues in deepe discourses of humane felicitie and the way to it in common; others thought best to applie the generall precepts of goodnesse or decencie, to particular [Page] conditions and persons: A third sort in a mean course betwixt the two other, and compounded of them both, bestowed their time in drawing out the true lineaments of euery vertue and vice, so liuely, that who saw the medals, might know the face: which Art they significantly termed Charactery. Their papers were so many tables, their writings so many speaking pictures, or liuing images, whereby the ruder multitude might euen by their [Page] sense learne to know vertue, and discerne what to detest. I am deceiued if any course could be more likely to preuaile; for heerein the grosse conceit is led on with pleasure, and informed while it feeles nothing but delight: And if pictures haue beene accounted the books of idiots, beholde heere the benefit of an image without the offence. It is no shame for vs to learne wit of Heathens, neither is it materiall, in whose Schoole we take out a [Page] good lesson: yea, it is more shame not to follow their good, than not to leade them better. As one therefore that in worthy examples hold imitation better than inuention, I have trod in their paths, but with an higher & wider step; and out of their Tablets haue drawen these larger portraitures of both sorts. More might be sayd, I denie not of euery vertue, of euery vice: I desired not to say all, but enough. If thou do but read or like these, I [Page] haue spent good houres ill; but if thou shalt hence abiure those vices, which before thou thoughtest not ill-fauoured, or fall in loue with any of these goodly faces of vertue; or shalt hence finde where thou hast anie little touch of these euils, to cleere thy selfe, or where any defect in these graces to supply it, neither of vs shall need to repent of our labor.

THE SVMME OF the whole.

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FIRST BOOKE.

THe Prooeme. Pag. 1

Character of Wisdome. 5

Of Honestie. 13

Of Faith. 19

Of Humilitie. 27

Of Valor. 33

Of Patience. 39

Of True-Friendship. 45

Of True-Nobilitie. 51

Of the good Magistrate. 57

SECOND BOOKE.

THe Prooeme. 67

Character of the Hypocrite. 71

Of the Busie-Bodie. 79

Of the Superstitious. 87

Of the Profane. 93

Of the Male-content. 99

Of the Inconstant. 107

Of the Flatterer. 113

Of the Slothfull. 119

Of the Couetous. 125

Of the Vain-glorious. 133

Of the Presumptuous. 141

Of the Distrustfull. 147

Of the Ambitious. 153

Of the Vnthrift. 161

Of the Enuious. 167

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THE FIRST Booke. Characterismes of Vertues.

LONDON, Printed by M. B. for Eleazer Edgar, and S. Macham.

The Prooeme.

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VERTVE is not loued enough, because shee is not seene; and Vice loseth much detestation, because her vglinesse is secret. Certainly, my Lords, there are so many beauties, and so many graces in the face of Goodnesse, that no eye can possibly see it without affection, without rauishment; and the visage of Euil is so monstrous, [Page] through loathsome deformities, that if her louers were not ignorant, they would be mad with disdaine and astonishment. What need we more than to discouer these two to the world? this worke shall saue the labour of exhorting, and dissuasion. I haue heere done it as I could, following that ancient Master of Moralitie, who thought this the fittest taske for the ninetie and ninth yeere of his age, and the profitablest monument that he could leaue for a fare-well to his Grecians. Loe heere then Vertue and Vice strip't naked to the open view, and despoiled, one of her rags, the other of her ornaments, and [Page] nothing left them but bare presence to plead for affection: see now whether shall finde more suiters. And if still the vaine mindes of leaud men shall dote vpon their olde mistresse, it will appeare to be, not because she is not foule, but for that they are blind, and bewitched. And first behold the goodly features of WISDOME, an amiable vertue and worthy to leade this stage; which as she extends her selfe to all the following Graces, so amongst the rest is for her largenesse most conspicuous.

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CHARACTER of the WISE MAN.

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THERE is nothing that he desires not to know, but most and first himselfe; and-not so much his owne strength, as his weaknesses; neither is his knowledge reduced to discourse, but practise. He is a skilfull Logician not by nature, so much as vse; [Page] his working minde doth nothing all his time but make syllogismes, & draw out conclusions; euery thing that he sees & heares serues for one of the premises: with these he cares first to informe himselfe, then to direct others. Both his eyes are neuer at once from home, but one keeps house while the other roues abroad for intelligence. In materiall and weighty points he abides not his minde suspended in vncertainties; but hates doubting where he may, where he should be resolute: and first hee makes sure worke for his soule; accounting it no safetie to be vnsetled in the foreknowledge of his finall estate. The [Page] best is first regarded; and vaine is that regard which endeth not in securitie. Euery care hath his iust order; neither is there any one either neglected or mis-placed. He is seldome ouerseene with credulity; for knowing the falsenesse of the world, he hath learn'd to trust himselfe alwaies; others so farre, as he may not be dammaged by their disappointment. He seeks his quietnesse in secrecy, and is wont both to hide himselfe in retirednesse, and his tongue in himselfe. He loues to be gessed at, not knowen; and to see the world vnseen; and when hee is forced into the light, shewes by his actions that his obscuritie was neither from [Page] affectation nor weaknesse. His purposes are neither so variable as may argue inconstancy; nor obstinately vnchangeable, but framed according to his afterwits, or the strength of new occasions. He is both an apt scholar and an excellent master; for both euerie thing hee sees informes him, and his minde inriched with plentifull obseruation can giue the best precepts. His free discourse runnes backe to the ages past, and recouers euents out of memory, and then preuenteth Tyme in flying forward to future things; and comparing one with the other can giue a verdict well-neere propheticall: wherein his coniectures [Page] are better than anothers iudgements. His passions are so many good seruants, which stand in a diligent attendance ready to be commanded by reason, by religion; and if at any time forgetting their duty they be mis-carried to rebell, hee can first conceale their mutiny; then suppresse it. In all his iust and worthy designes he is neuer at a losse, but hath so proiected all his courses, that a second begins where the first failed; and fetcheth strength from that which succeeded not. There be wrongs which he will not see; neither doth he alwayes looke that way which hee meaneth; nor take notice of his secret smarts, when [Page] they come from great ones. In good turnes he loues not to owe more than he must; in euill to owe and not pay. Iust censures hee deserues not, for hee liues without the compasse of an aduersarie; vniust he contemneth, and had rather suffer false infamie to die alone, than lay hands vpon it in an open violence. He confineth himselfe in the circle of his own affaires, and lists not to thrust his finger into a needlesse fire. He stands like a Center vnmoued, while the circumference of his estate is drawen aboue, beneath, about him. Finally, his wit hath cost him much, and he can both keepe, and value, and imploy it. He is [Page] his owne Lawyer; the treasurie of knowledge, the oracle of counsell; blinde in no mans cause, best-sighted in his owne.

The Characterisme of an Honest man.

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HE looks not to what hee might doe, but what hee should; Iustice is his first guide, the second law of his actions is expedience. He had rather complaine than offend, & hates sinne more for the indignitie of it, than the danger: his simple vprightnesse workes in him that confidence, which oft-times [Page] wrongs him, and giues aduantage to the subtle, when he rather pities their faithlesnes, than repents of his credulitie: he hath but one heart, and that lies open to sight; and were it not for discretion, hee neuer thinks ought, whereof he would auoid a witnesse: his word is his parchment, and his yea his oath, which he will not violate for feare, or for losse. The mishaps of following euents may cause him to blame his prouidence, can neuer cause him to eat his promise: neither sayth he, This I saw not; but This I sayd. When he is made his friends Executour, hee defrayes debts, payes legacies, and scorneth to [Page] gaine by orphans, or to ransack graues; and therefore will be true to a dead friend, because he sees him not. All his dealings are square, & aboue the boord: he bewrayes the fault of what he selles, and restores the ouerseene gaine of a false reckoning. He esteemes a bribe venomous, tho it come guilded ouer with the colour of gratuitie. His cheeks are neuer stained with the blushes of recantation; neither doth his tongue falter to make good a lie with the secret glosses of double or reserued senses; and when his name is traduced, his innocencie beares him out with courage: then, lo, hee goes on the plaine way of [Page] truth, and will either triumph in his integritie, or suffer with it. His conscience ouer-rules his prouidence: so as in all things, good or ill, he respects the nature of the actions, not the sequell. If he see what he must do, let God see what shall follow. He neuer loadeth himselfe with burdens aboue his strength, beyond his will; and once bound, what he can he will do; neither doth he will but what he can do. His eare is the Sanctuary of his absent friends name, of his present friends secret; neither of them can mis-carry in his trust. Hee remembers the wrongs of his youth, and repayes them with that vsury which he himselfe [Page] would not take. He would rather want than borow, and begge than not pay: his faire conditions are without dissembling; and hee loues actions aboue words. Finally, hee hates falshood worse than death: he is a faithfull client of truth; no mans enemie; and, it is a question, Whether more another mans friend, or his owne; and if there were no heauen, yet he would be vertuous.

The Characterism of the Faithfull man.

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HIs eyes haue no other obiects, but absent & inuisible; which they see so cleerly, as that to them sense is blind: that which is present they see not; if I may not rather say, that what is past or future is present to them. Heerin he exceeds all others, that to him nothing is impossible, nothing difficult, whether to beare, or vndertake. [Page] He walkes euery day with his Maker, and talkes with him familiarly, and liues euer in heauen, and sees all earthly things beneath him: when he goes in, to conuerse with God, he weares not his owne clothes, but takes them still out of the rich Wardrobe of his Redeemer, and then dare boldly prease in, and challenge a blessing. The celestiall spirits do not scorne his company, yea his seruice. He deales in these worldly affaires as a stranger, and hath his heart euer at home: without a written warrant he dare doe nothing, and with it, any thing. His warre is perpetuall, without truce, without intermission; and his victorie [Page] certaine: hee meets with the infernall powers, and tramples them vnder feet. The shield that he euer beares before him, can neither be missed, nor pierced: if his hand be wounded, yet his heart is safe: he is often tripped, seldome foiled; and if somtimes foiled, neuer vanquished. Hee hath white hands, and a cleane soule, fit to lodge God in, all the roomes wherof are set apart for his Holinesse: Iniquitie hath oft called at the doore, and craued entertainment, but with a repulse: or if sin of force will be his tenant; his lord hee can not. His faults are few, and those he hath, God will not see. He is allied so high, that he dare call God [Page] Father, his Sauior Brother, heauen his Patrimonie, and thinks it no presumption to trust to the attendance of Angels. His vnderstanding is inlightened with the beames of diuine truth; God hath acquainted him with his will; and what hee knowes hee dare confesse: there is not more loue in his heart, than libertie in his tongue. If torments stand betwixt him and Christ, if death, he contemnes them; and if his owne parents lie in his way to God, his holy carelesnesse makes them his footsteps. His experiments haue drawen forth rules of confidence, which hee dares oppose against all the feares of distrust; wherein hee thinkes it [Page] safe to charge God with what he hath done; with what hee hath promised: Examples are his proofes; and Instances his demonstrations. What hath God giuen which hee can not giue? What haue others suffered which hee may not be enabled to indure? Is he threatned banishment? There hee sees the Deare Euangelist in Pathmos cutting in pieces: hee sees Esay vnder the saw. Drowning? hee sees Ionas diuing into the liuing gulfe. Burning? he sees the three children in the hote walke of the furnace. Deuouring? hee sees Daniel in the sealed den amids his terrible companions. Stoning? hee sees the first Martyr [Page] vnder his heape of many grauestones. Heading? loe there the Baptists necke bleeding in Herodias platter. He emulates their paine, their strength, their glorie. Hee wearies not himselfe with cares; for hee knowes hee liues not of his owne cost: not idlely omitting meanes, but not vsing them with diffidence. In the midst of ill rumors and amazements his countenance changeth not; for hee knowes both whom hee hath trusted, & whither death can lead him. He is not so sure he shall die, as that hee shall be restored; and out-faceth his death with his resurrection. Finally, hee is rich in workes, busie in obedience, [Page] cheerefull and vnmooued in expectation; better with euils, in common opinion miserable, but in true iudgement more than a man.

Of the Humble man.

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HE is a friendly enemy to himselfe: for tho hee be not out of his owne fauor, no man sets so low a value of his worth as himselfe, not out of ignorance, or carelesnesse, but of a voluntary and meeke deiectednesse. Hee admires euery thing in another, whiles the same or better in himselfe he thinks not vnworthily contemned: his eies are full of his owne wants, and [Page] others perfections. He loues rather to giue, than take honour, not in a fashion of complementall courtesie, but in simplicitie of his iudgement; neither doth hee fret at those, on whom hee forceth precedencie, as one that hoped their modestie would haue refused; but holdes his minde vnfainedly below his place, and is readie to go lower (if need be) without discontentment: When hee hath but his due, hee magnifieth courtesie, and disclaimes his deserts. Hee can be more ashamed of honor, than grieued with contempt; because hee thinkes that causelesse, this deserued. His face, his carriage, his habit, sauor of lowlinesse [Page] without affectation, and yet he is much vnder that he seemeth. His words are few & soft, neuer either peremptory or censorious; because he thinks both ech man more wise, and none more faulty than himselfe: and when hee approcheth to the throne of God, he is so taken vp with the diuine greatnesse, that in his owne eyes he is either vile or nothing. Places of publique charge are faine to sue to him, and hale him out of his chosen obscuritie; which he holds off, not cunningly to cause importunitie, but sincerely in the conscience of his defects. Hee frequenteth not the stages of common resorts, and then alone [Page] thinks himselfe in his naturall element, when he is shrowded within his owne walles. Hee is euer iealous ouer himselfe, and still suspecteth that which others applaud. There is no better obiect of beneficence, for what hee receiues, hee ascribes meerly to the bountie of the giuer; nothing to merit. He emulates no man in any thing but goodnesse, and that with more desire, than hope to ouertake, No man is so contented with his little, and so patient vnder miseries, because he knowes the greatest euils are below his sins, and the least fauours aboue his deseruings. Hee walks euer in awe, and dare not but subiect [Page] euery word & action to an hie and iust censure. He is a lowly valley sweetly planted, and well watered; the proud mans earth, whereon he trampleth; but secretly full of wealthie mines, more worth than he that walks ouer them; a rich stone set in lead; and lastly, a true Temple of God built with a low roofe.

The Character of a Valiant man.

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HEe vndertakes without rashnesse, and performes without fearer [...] he seeks not for dangers; but when they find him, he beares them ouer with courage, with successe. He hath oft times lookt death in the face, and passed by it with a smile, & when hee sees he must yeeld, doth at once welcome and contemne it. He forecasts the worst [Page] of all euents, & incounters them before they come in a secret and mentall warre; and if the suddennesse of an inexpected euill haue surprized his thoughts, & infected his cheekes with palenesse; he hath no sooner digested it in his conceit, than he gathers vp himselfe, and insults ouer mischiefe. He is the maister of himselfe, and subdues his passions to reason; and by this inward victorie workes his owne peace. He is afrayd of nothing but the displeasure of the highest, and runnes away from nothing but sinne: he lookes not on his hands but his cause; not how strong he is, but how innocent: and where goodnesse [Page] is his warrant, he may be ouermaistered, he can not be foiled. The sword is to him the last of all trials, which he drawes forth still as Defendant, not as Challenger, with a willing kinde of vnwillingnesse: no man can better manage it, with more safety, with more fauor: he had rather haue his blood seene than his backe; and disdaines life vpon base conditions. No man is more milde to a relenting or vanquish't aduersarie, or more hates to set his foot on a carcase. He had rather smother an iniurie than reuenge himselfe of the impotent: and I know not whether more detests cowardlinesse or crueltie. He talks little, and [Page] brags lesse; and loues rather the silent language of the hand; to be seene than heard. He lies euer close within himselfe, armed with wise resolution, and will not be discouered but by death or danger. He is neither prodigall of blood to mis-spend it idlely, nor niggardly to grudge it when either God calles for it, or his Countrey; neither is hee more liberall of his owne life, than of others. His power is limited by his will, and he holds it the noblest reuenge, that he might hurt and doth not. Hee commands without tyrannie & imperiousnesse, obeies without seruilitie, and changes not his minde with his estate. The [Page] height of his spirits ouer-looks all casualties, and his boldnesse proceeds neither from ignorance nor senselesnesse: but first he values euils, and then despises them: he is so ballanced with wisdome, that he floats steddilie in the midst of all tempests. Deliberate in his purposes, firme in resolution, bolde in enterprising, vnwearied in atchieuing, and howsoeuer happy in successe: and if euer he be ouercome, his heart yeelds last.

The Patient man.

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THe Patient man is made of a mettall, not so hard as flexible: his shoulders are large, fit for a load of iniuries; which he beares not out of basenesse and cowardlinesse, because he dare not reuenge, but out of Christian fortitude, because he may not: hee hath so conquered himself, that wrongs can not conquer him; & heerin alone findes, that victorie [Page] consists in yeelding. Hee is aboue nature, while hee seemes below himselfe. The vilest creature knowes how to turne againe; but to command himselfe not to resist being vrged is more than heroicall. His constructions are ouer full or charitie and fauor; either this wrong was not done, or not with intent of wrong, or if that, vpon mis-information; or if none of these, rashnesse (tho a fault) shall serue for an excuse. Himselfe craues the offenders pardon, before his confession; and a slight answer contents where the offended desires to forgiue. Hee is Gods best witnesse, and when hee stands before [Page] the barre for trueth, his tongue is calmly free, his forhead firme, and hee with erect and setled countenance heares his vniust sentence, and reioyces in it. The Iailers that attend him are to him his pages of honour; his dungeon the lower part of the vault of heauen; his racke or wheele the staires of his ascent to glorie: he challengeth his executioners, and incounters the fiercest paines with strength of resolution; and while he suffers, the beholders pitse him, the tormentours complaine of wearinesse, and both of them wonder. No anguish can maister him, whether by violence or by lingring. He accounts expectation [Page] no punishment, and can abide to haue his hopes adiourned till a new day. Good lawes serue for his protection, not for his reuenge; and his own power, to auoid indignities, not to returne them. His hopes are so strong, that they can insult ouer the greatest discouragements; and his apprehensions so deep, that when he hath once fastened, hee sooner leaueth his life than his hold. Neither time nor peruersnesse can make him cast off his charitable endeuors, and despaire of preuailing; but in spight of all crosses, and all denials, he redoubleth his beneficiall offers of loue. Hee trieth the sea after many ship-wracks, [Page] and beates still at that doore which hee neuer saw opened. Contrarietie of euents doth but exercise, not dismay him; and when crosses afflict him, he sees a diuine hand inuisibly striking with these sensible scourges: against which hee dares not rebell, not murmure. Hence all things befall him alike; and hee goes with the same minde to the shambles and to the folde. His recreations are calme and gentle; and not more full of relaxation than void of fury. This man onely can turne necessitie into vertue, and put euill to good vse. Hee is the surest friend, the latest and easiest enemie, the greatest conqueror, [Page] and so much more happy than others, by how much hee could abide to be more miserable.

The True Friend.

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HIs affections are both vnited and diuided; vnited to him he loueth; diuided betwixt another and himselfe; and his one heart is so parted, that whiles hee hath some, his friend hath all. His choice is led by vertue, or by the best of vertues, religion; not by gaine, not by pleasure; yet not without respect of equall condition, of disposition not [Page] vnlike; which once made admits of no change, except hee whom hee loueth be changed quite from himselfe, nor that suddenly, but after long expectation. Extremity doth but fasten him, whiles he like a well-wrought vault lies the stronger by how much more weight hee beares. When necessitie calles him to it, he can be a seruant to his equall, with the same will wherewith he can command his inferior; and tho he rise to honor, forgets not his familiarity, nor suffers inequalitie of estate to worke strangenesse of countenance; on the other side, he lifts vp his friend to aduancement, with a willing hand, without [Page] out enuie, without dissimulation. When his mate is dead, he accounts himselfe but halfe aliue; then his loue not dissolued by death deriues it selfe to those orphans which neuer knew the price of their father; they become the heires of his affection, and the burden of his cares. He embraces a free communitie of all things, saue those which either honesty reserues proper, or nature; and hates to enioy that which would do his friend more good: his charitie serues to cloake noted infirmities, not by vntruth, not by flattery, but by discreet secrecie; neither is hee more fauourable in concealement, than round in his priuate [Page] reprehensions; and when anothers simple fidelitie shewes it selfe in his reproofe, he loues his monitor so much the more by how much more he smarteth. His bosome is his friends closet, where he may safely lay vp his cōplaints, his doubts, his cares, and looke how he leaues, so he findes them; saue for some addition of seasonable counsell for redresse. If some vnhappy suggestion shall either disioint his affection, or breake it, it soone knits againe, and growes the stronger by that stresse. He is so sensible of anothers iniuries, that when his friend is stricken hee cries out, and equally smarteth vntouched, as one affected not [Page] sympathy, but with a reall feeling of paine: and in what mischiefe may be preuented he interposeth his aid, and offers to redeeme his friend with himselfe; no houre can be vnseasonable, no businesse difficult, nor paine grieuous in condition of his ease: and what either doth or suffereth, he neither cares nor desires to haue knowen; lest he should seem to look for thanks. If hee can therefore steale the performance of a good office vnseene, the conscience of his faithfulnesse heerein is so much sweeter as it is more secret. In fauours done his memorie is fraile, in benefits receiued eternall: hee scorneth either to regard [Page] recompence, or not to offer it. He is the comfort of miseries, the guide of difficulties, the ioy of life, the treasure of earth; and no other than a good Angell clothed in flesh.

Of the Truly-Noble.

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HE stands not vpon what he borrowed of his Ancestours, but thinks he must worke out his owne honor: and if he can not reach the vertue of them that gaue him outward glory by inheritance, he is more abashed of his impotencie, than transported with a great name. Greatnesse doth not make him scornfull and imperious, but rather like the fixed starres, the [Page] higher he is, the lesse he desires to seeme. Neither cares he so much for pompe and frothie ostentation, as for the solid truth of Noblenesse. Courtesie and sweet affabilitie can be no more seuered from him, than life from his soule; not out of a base and seruile popularitie, and desire of ambitious insinuation; but of a natiue gentlenesse of disposition, and true value of himselfe. His hand is open and bounteous, yet not so, as that he should rather respect his glorie, than his estate; wherein his wisdome can distinguish betwixt parasites and friends, betwixt changing of fauors and expending them. He scorneth to make his height [Page] a priuilege of loosenesse, but accounts his titles vaine, if hee be inferior to others in goodnesse: and thinks hee should be more strict, the more eminent he is; because hee is more obserued, and now his offences are become exemplar. There is no vertue that hee holds vnfit for ornament, for vse; nor any vice which he condemnes not as fordid, and a fit companion of basenesse; and whereof he doth not more hate the blemish, than affect the pleasure. He so studies as one that knowes ignorance can neither purchase honour, nor wield it; and that knowledge must both guide and grace him. His exercises are [Page] from his childhood ingenuous, manly, decent, and such as tend still to wit, valor, actiuitie: and if (as seldome) he descend to disports of chance, his games shall neuer make him either pale with feare, or hote with desire of gaine. Hee doth not so vse his followers, as if he thought they were made for nothing but his seruitude; whose felicitie were onlie to bee commanded and please: wearing them to the backe, and then either finding or framing excuses to discard them emptie; but vpon all opportunities lets them feele the sweetnesse of their owne seruiceablenesse and his bountie. Silence in officious seruice is the [Page] best Oratorie to plead for his respect: all diligence is but lent to him, none lost. His wealth stands in receiuing, his honour in giuing: hee cares not either how many holde of his goodnesse, or to how few hee is beholden: and if hee haue cast away fauours, he hates either to vpbraid them to his enemie, or to challenge restitution. None can be more pitifull to the distressed, or more prone to succour; and then most, where is least meanes to solicit, least possibilitie of requitall. He is equally addressed to warre & peace; and knowes not more how to command others, than how to be his countries seruant in both. [Page] He is more carefull to giue true honor to his Maker, than to receiue ciuill honour from men. Hee knowes that this seruice is free and noble, and euer loaded with sincere glorie; and how vaine it is to hunt after applause from the world, till he be sure of him that moldeth all hearts, and powreth contempt on Princes; and shortly, so demeanes himselfe, as one that accounts the bodie of Nobilitie to consist in Blood, the soule in the eminence of Vertue.

Of the Good Magistrate.

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HE is the faithfull Deputie of his Maker, whose obedience is the rule whereby he ruleth: his brest is the Ocean whereinto all the cares of priuate men emptie themselues; which as hee receiues without complaint and ouerflowing, so he sends them forth againe by a wise conueyance in the streames of iustice: his doores, his eares are euer open to suters; and not [Page] who comes first speeds well, but whose cause is best. His nights, his meales are short and interrupted; all which hee beares well, because hee knowes himselfe made for a publique seruant of peace and iustice. Hee sits quietly at the sterne, & commands one to the top-saile, another to the maine, a third to the plummet, a fourth to the anchor, as hee sees the need of their course and weather requires; and doth no lesse by his tongue, than all the Mariners with their hands. On the bench he is another from himselfe at home; now all priuate respects of blood, alliance, amitie are forgotten; and if his own sonne [Page] come vnder triall, hee knowes him not: Pitie, which in all others is woont to bee the best praise of humanitie, & the fruit of Christian loue, is by him throwen ouer the barre for corruption: as for Fauour the false Aduocate of the gracious, he allowes him not to appeare in the Court; there only causes are heard speake, not persons: Eloquence is then only not discouraged, when she serues for a client of truth: meere Narrations are allowed in this Oratory, not Proemes, not Excursions, not Glosses: Truth must strip herselfe, and come in naked to his barre, without false bodies, or colours, without disguises: A [Page] bribe in his closet, or a letter on the bench, or the whispering and winks of a great neighbour are answered with an angry and courageous repulse. Displeasure, reuenge, recompense stand on both sides the bench, but he scornes to turne his eye towards them; looking only right forward at Equitie, which stands full before him. His sentence is euer deliberate and guided with ripe wisdome, yet his hand is slower than his tongue; but when he is vrged by occasion either to doome or execution, he shewes how much hee hateth mercifull iniustice: neither can his resolution or act be reuersed with partiall importunitie. His [Page] forhead is rugged and seuere, able to discountenance villanie, yet his words are more awfull than his brow, and his hand than his wordes. I know not whether he be more feared or loued, both affections are so sweetly contempered in all hearts. The good feare him louingly, the middle sort loue him fearefully, and only the wicked man feares him slauishly without loue. He hates to pay priuate wrongs with the aduantage of his office, and if euer he be partiall it is to his enemy. He is not more sage in his gowne than valorous in armes, and increaseth in the rigor of his discipline as the times in danger. His [Page] sword hath neither rusted for want of vse, nor surfeteth of blood, but after many threats is vnsheathed, as the dreadfull instrument of diuine reuenge. He is the guard of good lawes, the refuge of innocencie, the Comet of the guiltie, the pay-maister of good deserts, the champian of iustice; the patron of peace, the tutor of the Church, the father of his Countrey, and as it were another God vpon earth.

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THE SECOND Booke. Characterismes of Vices.

LONDON, Printed by M. B. for Eleazar Edgar, and S. Macham.

The Prooeme.

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I Haue shewed you many faire Vertues: I speak not for them, if their sight can not command affection, let them lose it. They shall please yet better, after you haue troubled your eyes a little with the view of deformities; and by how much more they please, so much more odious, and like themselues, shall these deformities [Page] appeare. This light contraries giue to ech other, in the midst of their enmitie, that one makes the other seeme more good, or ill. Perhaps in some of these (which thing I do at once feare, and hate) my stile shall seeme to some lesse graue, more Satyricall; if you finde me not without cause iealous, let it please you to impute it to the nature of those vices, which will not be otherwise handled. The fashions of some euils are besides the odiousnesse, ridiculous; which to repeat, is to seeme bitterlie merrie. I abhorre to make sport with wickednesse, and forbid any laughter heere, but of disdaine. Hypocrisie [Page] shall lead this ring; woorthily, I thinke, because both she commeth neerest to Vertue, and is the woorst of Vices.

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The Hypocrite.

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AN Hypocrite is the worst kinde of plaier, by so much as he acts the better part; which hath alwayes two faces, oft times two hearts: That can compose his forhead to sadnesse and grauitie, while hee bids his heart be wanton and carelesse within, and (in the meane time) laughs within himselfe, to think how smoothly he hath couzened the beholder. In whose silent [Page] face are written the characters of Religion, which his tongue & gestures pronounce, but his hands recant. That hath a cleane face and garment, with a soule soule; whose mouth belies his heart, and his fingers belie his mouth. Walking early vp into the Citie, he turnes into the great Church, and salutes one of the pillars on one knee, worshipping that God which at home hee cares not for; while his eye is fixed on some window, on some passenger, and his heart knowes not whither his lips go. Hee rises, and looking about with admiration, complaines of our frozen charitie, commends the ancient. [Page] At Church hee will euer sit where hee may bee seene best, and in the midst of the Sermon pulles out his Tables in haste, as if he feared to leese that note; when hee writes either his forgotten errand, or nothing: then he turnes his bible with a noise, to seeke an omitted quotation; and folds the lease, as if hee had found it; and askes aloud the name of the Preacher, and repeats it, whom hee publikelie salutes, thanks, praises, inuites, entertaines with tedious good counsell, with good discourse, if it had come from an honester mouth. Hee can commaund teares, when hee speaks of his youth, indeed because it is past, [Page] not because it was sinfull: himselfe is now better, but the times are worse. All other sinnes hee reckons vp with detestation, while hee loues and hides his darling in his bosome. All his speech returnes to himselfe, and euery occurrent drawes in a storie to his owne praise. When he should giue, he looks about him, and sayes WHO SEES ME? No almes, no prayers fall from him without a witnesse; belike lest God should denie, that hee hath receiued them: and when hee hath done (lest the world should not know it) his owne mouth is his trumpet to proclame it. With the superfluitie of his vsurie, hee builds an Hospitall, [Page] and harbors them whom his extortion hath spoiled; so while hee makes many beggers, he keeps some. Hee turneth all Gnats into Camels, and cares not to vndoe the world for a circumstance. Flesh on a Friday is more abomination to him than his neighbours bed: Hee abhorres more not to vncouer at the name of Iesus, than to sweare by the name of God. When a Rimer reads his Poeme to him, he begges a Copie, and perswades the Presse; there is nothing that hee dislikes in presence, that in absence hee censures not. He comes to the sicke bed of his stepmother, & weeps, when hee secretly feares her recouerie. [Page] He greets his friend in the street with so cleere a countenance, so fast a closure, that the other thinks hee reades his heart in his face; and shakes hands with an indefinite inuitation of When will you come? and when his backe is turned, ioyes that he is so well rid of a guest: yet if that guest visit him vnseared, hee counterfeits a smiling welcome, and excuses his chere, when closely he frownes on his wife for too much. He shewes well, and sayes well; and himselfe is the worst thing he hath. In briefe, hee is the strangers saint, the neighbors disease, the blotte of goodnesse; a rotten sticke in a darke night, a poppie [Page] in a corne field, an ill tempered candle with a great snuffe, that in going out smelles ill; an Angell abroad, a Diuell at home; and worse when an Angell, than when a Diuell.

The Characterism of the Busie-Bodie.

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HIs estate is too narrow for his minde, and therefore hee is faine to make himselfe roome in others affaires; yet euer in pretence of loue. No newes can stir but by his doore; neither can he know that, which hee must not tell: What euerie man ventures in Guiana voyage, & what they gained he knowes to a haire. Whether Holland will [Page] haue peace hee knowes, and on what conditions; and with what successe is familiar to him ere it bee concluded. No Post can passe him without a question, and rather than he will leese the newes, he rides backe with him to appose him of tidings; and then to the next man hee meets, hee supplies the wants of his hasty intelligence, and makes vp a perfect tale; wherewith he so haunteth the patient auditor that after many excuses, hee is faine to indure rather the censure of his maners in running away, than the tediousnesse of an impertinent discourse. His speech is oft broken off with a succession of long parentheses, [Page] which he euer vowes to fill vp ere the conclusion, and perhaps would effect it, if the others eare were as vnweariable as his tongue. If hee see but two men talke and reade a letter in the street, hee runnes to them, and asks if he may not be partner of that secret relation; and if they denie it, hee offers to tell, since hee may not heare, woonders: and then falles vpon the report of the Scotish Mine, or of the great fish taken vp at Linne, or of the freezing of the Thames; and after many thanks and dismissions is hardly intreated silence. Hee vndertakes as much as he performes little: this man will thrust himselfe forward to [Page] be the guide of the way hee knowes not; and calles at his neighbors window, & asks why his seruants are not at worke. The Market hath no commoditie which hee prizeth not, and which the next table shall not heare recited. His tongue like the taile of Sampsons foxes carries fire-brand, and is enough to set the whole field of the world on a flame. Himselfe beginnes table-talke of his neighbour at anothers boord; to whom he beares the first newes, and adiures him to conceale the reporter: whose cholericke answer he returnes to his first host, inlarged with a second edition: so, as it vses to be done in the [Page] fight of vnwilling mastiues, hee claps ech on the side apart, and prouokes them to an eager conflict. There can no Act passe without his Comment, which is euer far-fetch't, rash, suspicious, delatorie. His eares are long, and his eyes quicke, but most of all to imperfections, which as he easily sees, so he increases with intermedling. Hee harbours another mans seruant, and amiddes his entertainment asks what fare is vsuall at home, what houres are kept, what talke passeth their meales, what his masters disposition is, what his gouernment, what his guests? And when hee hath by curious inquiries extracted all the iuice [Page] and spirit of hoped intelligence, turnes him off whence he came, and works on a new. Hee hates constancie as an ear-then dulnesse, vnfit for men of spirit: and loues to change his worke and his place; neither yet can hee bee so soone wearie of any place, as euerie place is wearie of him; for as hee sets himselfe on worke, so others pay him with hatred; and looke how manie maisters hee hath, so manie enemies: neither is it possible that anie should not hate him, but who know him not. So then hee labours without thanks, talkes without credit, liues without loue, dies without teares, without [Page] pitie; saue that some say it was pitie he died no sooner.

The Superstitious.

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SVperstition is Godlesse religion, deuout impietie. The superstitious is fond in obseruation, seruile in feare, he worships God but as he lifts: he giues God what he asks not, more than he askes; and all but what he should giue; and makes more sinnes than the Ten Commandements. This man dares not stirre foorth till his brest be crossed, and his face sprinckled: [Page] if but an hare crosse him the way, he returnes; or if his iourney began vnawares on the dismall day; or if hee stumbled at the threshold. If he see a snake vnkilled, hee feares a mischiefe; if the salt fall towards him, hee lookes pale and red, and is not quiet till one of the waiters haue powred wine on his lappe; and when hee neeseth, thinks them not his friends that vncouer not. In the morning he listens whether the Crow crieth eeuen or odde, and by that token presages of the weather. If hee heare but a Rauen croke from the next roofe, hee makes his will, or if a Bittour flie ouer his head by night: but if his troubled [Page] fancie shall second his thoughts with the dreame of a faire Garden, or greene rushes, or the salutation of a dead friend, hee takes leaue of the world, and sayes he can not liue. Hee will neuer set to Sea but on a Sunday; neither euer goes without an Erra Pater in his pocket. Saint Pauls day and Saint Swithunes with the Twelue are his Oracles; which he dares beleeue against the Almanacke. When hee lies sicke on his death-bed, no sinne troubles him so much as that he did once eat flesh on a Friday, no repentance can expiate that; the rest need none. There is no dreame of his without an interpretation, without [Page] a prediction; and if the euent answer not his exposition, hee expounds it according to the euent. Euery darke groaue and pictured wall strikes him with an awfull but carnall deuotion. Olde wiues and Starres are his counsellers; his night-spell is his guard, and charmes his Physitians. He weares Paracelsian Characters for the tooth-ache, and a little hallowed wax is his Antidote for all euils. This man is strangely credulous, and calles impossible things, miraculous: If hee heare that some sacred blocke speakes, moues, weepes, smiles, his bare foot carrie him thither with an offering; and if a danger misse him in the way, [Page] his saint hath the thanks. Some wayes he will not go, & some he dares not; either there are bugs, or hee faineth them; euery lanterne is a ghost, & euery noise is of chaines. He knowes not why, but his custome is to goe a little about, and to leaue the crosse stil on the right hand. One euent is enough to make a rule; out of these rules he concludes fashions proper to himselfe; and nothing can turne him out of his owne course. If he haue done his taske hee is safe, it matters not with what affection. Finally, if God would let him be the caruer of his owne obedience, hee could not haue a better subiect, as he is he can not haue a worse.

Characterisme of the Profane.

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THe Superstitious hath too manie Gods, the Prophane man hath none at all, vnlesse perhaps himselfe bee his owne deitie, and the world his heauen. To matter of religion his heart is a piece of dead flesh, without feeling of loue, of feare, of care, or of paine from the deafe stroakes of a reuenging [Page] conscience. Custome of sinne hath wrought this senslesnesse, which now hath beene so long entertained that it pleades prescription, and knowes not to be altered. This is no sudden euill: we are borne sinfull, but haue made our selues prophane; through manie degrees wee climbe to this height of impietie. At first hee sinned, and cared not; now hee sinneth, and knoweth not. Appetite is his lord, and reason his seruant, and religion his drudge. Sense is the rule of his beleefe; and if pietie may be an aduantage, he can at once counterfeit and deride it. When ought succeedeth to him hee sacrifices to his nets, and [Page] thanks either his fortune or his wit; and will rather make a false God, than acknowledge the true: if contrary, he cries out of destiny, & blames him to whom hee will not bee beholden. His conscience would faine speake with him, but he will not heare it; sets the day, but hee disappoints it; and when it cries loud for audience, hee drownes the noise with good fellowship. He neuer names God but in his oathes; neuer thinks of him but in extremity; & then he knowes not how to thinke of him, because he beginnes but then. He quarrels for the hard conditions of his pleasure, for his future damnation; and from himselfe [Page] layes all the fault vpon his maker; and from his decree fetcheth excuses of his wickednesse. The ineuitable necessity of Gods counsell makes him desperately carelesse: so with good food he poisons himselfe. Goodnesse is his Minstrell; neither is anie mirth so cordiall to him as his sport with Gods fooles. Euerie vertue hath his slander, and his iest to laugh it out of fashion: euery vice his colour. His vsuallest theme is the boast of his yoong sinnes, which he can still ioy in, tho he can not commit; and (if it may bee) his speech makes him woorse than hee is. Hee can not thinke of death with patience, without terrour, [Page] which he therefore feares worse than hell, because this he is sure of, the other hee but doubts of. Hee comes to Church as to the Theater, sauing that not so willinglie, for companie, for custome, for recreation, perhaps for sleepe; or to feed his eyes or his eares: as for his soule hee cares no more than if hee had none. He loues none but himselfe, and that not enough to seeke his true good; neither cares hee on whom hee treads, that he may rise. His life is full of licence, and his practise of outrage. He is hated of God as much as hee hateth goodnesse, and differs little from a diuell, but that he hath a body.

The Characterism of the Male-content.

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HE is neither well full nor fasting; and tho he abound with cō plaints, yet nothing dislikes him but the present: for what hee condemned while it was, once past hee magnifies, and striues to recall it out of the iawes of Time. What hee hath hee seeth not, his eyes are so taken vp with what he wants; and what hee sees hee cares not for, [Page] because hee cares so much for that which is not. When his friend carues him the best morsell, hee murmures that it is an happie feast wherein each one may cut for himselfe. When a present is sent him, he asks Is this all? and What no better? and so accepts it as if hee would haue his friend know how much he is bound to him for vouchsafing to receiue it. It is hard to enterteine him with a proportionable gift. If nothing, he cries out of vnthankfulnesse; if little, that hee is basely regarded; if much, hee exclames of flatterie, and expectation of a large requital. Euery blessing hath somwhat to disparage & distaste it: [Page] Children bring cares, single life is wilde and solitarie; Eminency is enuious, retirednesse obscure; Fasting painfull, satietie vnweldie; Religion nicely seuere, libertie is lawlesse; Wealth burdensome, mediocrity contemptible: Euerie thing faulteth either in too much or too little. This man is euer headstrong, and selfe-willed, neither is he alwayes tied to esteeme or pronounce according to reason; some things he must dislike hee knowes not wherefore, but hee likes them not: and other where rather than not censure, he will accuse a man of vertue. Euerie thing hee medleth with, hee either findeth imperfect, or maketh [Page] so: neither is there anie thing that soundeth so harsh in his eare as the commendation of another; whereto yet perhaps he fashionably and coldly assenteth, but with such an after-clause of exception, as doth more than marre his former allowance: and if hee list not to giue a verball disgrace, yet hee shakes his head and smiles, as if his silence should say, I could and will not. And when himselfe is praised without excesse, hee complaines that such imperfect kindnesse hath not done him right. If but an vnseasonable shower crosse his recreation, he is ready to fall out with heauen, and thinkes hee is wronged if [Page] GOD will not take his times when to raine, when to shine. Hee is a slaue to enuie, and loseth flesh with fretting, not so much at his owne infelicitie, as at others good; neither hath he leasure to ioy in his owne blessings whilest another prospereth. Faine would he see some mutinies, but dare not raise them; and suffers his lawlesse tongue to walke thorow the dangerous paths of conceited alterations, but so as in good maners hee had rather thrust euery man before him when it comes to acting. Nothing but feare keeps him from conspiracies, and no man is more cruell when hee is not manicled with [Page] danger. He speaks nothing but Satyres, and libels, and lodgeth no guests in his heart but rebels. The inconstant and hee agree well in their felicity, which both place in change: but heerein they differ; the inconstant man affects that which will be, the male-content commonly that which was. Finally, he is a querulous curre, whom no horse can passe by without barking at; yea, in the deepe silence of night the very moone-shine openeth his clamorous mouth: he is the wheele of a well-couched fireworke that flies out on all sides, not without scorching it selfe. Euery eare was long agoe wearie of him, and he is now almost [Page] wearie of himselfe. Giue him but a little respite, and he will die alone; of no other death, than others welfare.

The Vnconstant.

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THe inconstant man treads vpō a mouing earth, and keeps no pace. His proceedings are euer headdie and peremptorie; for hee hath not the patience to consult with reason, but determines meerelie vpon fancie. No man is so hot in the pursute of what hee liketh; no man sooner wearie. He is fiery in his passions, which yet are not more violent than momentanie: [Page] it is a woonder if his loue or hatred last so many dayes as a wonder. His heart is the Inne of all good motions, wherein if they lodge for a night it is well; by morning they are gone and take no leaue, and if they come that way againe they are entertained as guests, not as friends. At first like another Ecebolius he loued simple trueth, thence diuerting his eyes hee fell in loue with idolatrie; those heathenish shrines had neuer any more doting and besotted client, and now of late hee is leapt from Rome to Munster, and is growen to giddie Anabaptisme: what he will be next, as yet he knoweth not; but ere hee haue Wintred [Page] his opinion, it will be manifest. Hee is good to make an enemie of; ill for a friend; because as there is no trust in his affection, so no rancour in his displeasure. The multitude of his changed purposes brings with it forgetfulnesse; and not of others more than of himselfe. He sayes, sweares, renounces, because what hee promised hee meant not long enough to make an impression. Heerin alone he is good for a Common-wealth, that hee sets manie on worke, with building, ruining, altering; and makes more businesse than Time it selfe; neither is hee a greater enemie to thrift, than to idlenesse. Proprietie is to him [Page] enough cause of dislike; each thing pleases him better that is not his owne. Euen in the best things long continuance is a iust quarrell; Manna it selfe growes tedious with age, and Noueltie is the highest stile of commendation to the meanest offers: Neither doth he in books and fashions aske How good, but How new. Varietie carries him away with delight, and no vniforme pleasure can be without an irksome fulnesse. Hee is so transformable into all opinions, maners, qualities, that he seemes rather made immediatly of the first matter than of well tempered elements; and therefore is in possibilitie any thing, or euerie [Page] thing; nothing in present substance. Finally, he is seruile in imitation, waxey to persuasions, wittie to wrong himselfe, a guest in his owne house, an ape of others, and in a word, any thing rather than himselfe.

The Flatterer.

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FLatterie is nothing but false friendship, fawning hypocrisie, dishonest ciuilitie, base merchandize of words, a plausible discord of the heart and lips. The Flatterer is bleare-eyed to ill, and can not see vices; and his tongue walks euen in one tracke of vniust praises; and can no more tell how to discommend, than to speake true. His speeches are full of [Page] wondring Interiections; and all his titles are superlatiue, & both of them seldome euer but in presence. His base minde is well matched with a mercenarie tongue, which is a willing slaue to another mans eare; neither regardeth hee how true, but how pleasing. His Art is nothing but delightfull cozenage, whose rules are smoothing and garded with periurie; whose scope is to make men fooles, in teaching them to ouer-value themselues; and to tickle his friends to death. This man is a Porter of all good tales, and mends them in the carriage: One of Fames best friends, and his owne; that helps to furnish [Page] her with those rumors, that may aduantage himselfe. Conscience hath no greater aduersarie; for when shee is about to play her iust part, of accusation; he stops her mouth with good termes, and well-neere strangleth her with shifts. Like that subtle fish he turnes himselfe into the colour of euery stone, for a booty. In himselfe hee is nothing, but what pleaseth his GREAT-ONE, whose vertues he can not more extoll, than imitate his imperfections, that hee may thinke his worst gracefull. Let him say it is hote, hee wipes his forhead, and vnbraceth himselfe; if cold, he shiuers, & calles for a warmer garment. When he walks with [Page] his friend hee sweares to him, that no manels is looked at; no man talked of; and that whomsoeuer hee vouchsafes to looke on & nod to, is graced enough: That he knoweth not his owne woorth, lest hee should be too happie; and when he tells what others say in his praise, he interrupts himselfe modestlie, and dares not speake the rest: so his concealement is more insinuating than his speech. He hangs vpon the lips which hee admireth, as if they could let fall nothing but oracles, and finds occasion to cite some approoued sentence vnder the name he honoureth; and when ought is nobly spoken, both his hands [Page] are little enough to blesse him. Sometimes euen in absence hee extolleth his patron, where hee may presume of safe conueiance to his cares; and in presence so whispereth his commendation, to a common friend, that it may not be vnheard where he meant it. He hath salues for euery sore, to hide them, not to heale them; complexion for euery face: Sin hath not any more artificiall broker or more impudent band. There is no vice, that hath not from him his colour, his allurement; and his best seruice is either to further guiltinesse, or smother it. If hee grant euill things inexpedient, or crimes errors, he hath yeelded much; [Page] either thy estate giues priuilege of libertie, or thy youth; or if neither, What if it be ill, yet it is pleasant? Honesty to him is nice singularitie, repentance superstitious melancholie, grauitie dulnesse, and all vertue an innocent conceit of the base-minded. In short, he is the moth of liberall mens coats, the eare-wig of the mightie, the bane of Courts, a friend and a slaue to the trencher, and good for nothing but to be a factor for the Diuell.

The Slothfull.

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HE is a religious man, and weares the time in his cloister; and as the cloake of his doing nothing, pleads contemplation; yet is hee no whit the leaner for his thoughts, no whit learneder. He takes no lesse care how to spend time, than others how to gaine by the expense; and when businesse importunes him, is more troubled to forethinke what he must doe, than [Page] another to effect it. Summer is out of his fauour for nothing but long dayes, that make no haste to their eeuen. Hee loues still to haue the Sun witnesse of his rising; and lies long more for lothnesse to dresse him, than will to sleepe: and after some streaking and yawning calles for dinner, vnwashed; which hauing digested with a sleepe in his chaire, he walks forth to the bench in the Market-place, and looks for companions: whomsoeuer he meets, he stayes with idle questions, and lingring discourse; how the dayes are longthened, how kindly the weather is, how false the clocke, how forward the Spring, and [Page] ends euer with What shall we doe? It pleases him no lesse to hinder others, than not to worke himselfe. When all the people are gone from Church, hee is left sleeping in his seat alone. Hee enters bonds, and forfeits them by forgetting the day; and asks his neighbour when his owne field was fallowed, whether the next peece of ground belong not to himselfe. His care is either none, or too late: when Winter is come, after some sharpe visitations, hee looks on his pile of wood, and asks how much was cropped the last Spring. Necessitie driues him to euerie action, and what hee can not auoid, he will yet defer. [Page] Euery change troubles him, although to the better; and his dulnesse counterfeits a kinde of contentment. When he is warned on a Iurie, hee had rather pay the mulct, than appeare. All but that which Nature will not permit, he doth by a deputie, and counts it troublesome to doe nothing, but to doe any thing, yet more. He is wittie in nothing but framing excuses to sit still, which if the occasion yeeld not, he coineth with ease. There is no worke that is not either dangerous, or thanklesse, and whereof he foresees not the inconuenience and gainlesnesse before he enters; which if it be verified in euent, his next idlenesse [Page] hath found a reason to patronize it. He had rather freeze than fetch wood, and chuses rather to steale than worke; to begge than take paines to steale, and in many things to want than begge. Hee is so loth to leaue his neighbors fire, that he is faine to walke home in the darke; and if he be not lookt to, weares out the night in the chimney-corner; or if not that, lies downe in his clothes to saue two labors. He eats, and prayes himselfe asleepe; and dreames of no other torment but worke. This man is a standing poole, and can not chuse but gather corruption: hee is descried amongst a thousand neighbours [Page] by a drie and nastie hand, that still sauors of the sheet; a beard vncut, vnkembed; an eye and eare yellow with their excretions; a coat shaken on, ragged, vnbrush't; by linnen and face striuing whether shall excell in vncleanlinesse. For bodie hee hath a swollen legge, a duskie and swinish eye, a blowen cheeke, a drawling tongue, an heauie foot, and is nothing but a [...]older earth molded with standing water. To conclude, is a man in nothing but in speech and shape.

The Couetous.

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HEe is a seruaunt to himselfe, yea to his seruant; and doth base homage to that which should be the worst drudge. A liuelesse peece of earth is his master, yea his God, which hee shrines in his coffer, and to which hee sacrifices his heart. Euery face of his coine is a new image, which hee adores with the highest veneration; yet takes vpon him to be protector [Page] of that he worshippeth: which hee feares to keepe, and abhors to lose: not daring to trust either any other God, or his own. Like a true Chymist hee turnes euerie thing into siluer, both what hee should eat, and what he should weare; and that hee keepes to looke on, not to vse. When hee returnes from his field, he asks, not without much rage, what became of the loose crust in his cup-boord, and who hath rioted amongst his leekes? He neuer eats good meale, but on his neighbors trencher; and there hee makes amends to his complaining stomacke for his former and future fasts. He bids his neighbours to dinner, and [Page] when they haue done, sends in a trencher for the shot. Once in a yeere perhaps, hee giues himselfe leaue to feast; and for the time thinks no man more lauish; Wherein hee lists not to fetch his dishes from farre; nor will bee beholden to the shambles; his owne prouision shall furnish his boord with an insensible cost; and when his guests are parted, talkes how much euery man deuoured, and how many cups were emptied, and feeds his familie with the moldie remnants a moneth after. If his seruant breake but an earthen dish for want of light, hee abates it out of his quarters wages. He chips his bread, & sends [Page] it backe to exchange for staler. He lets money, and selles Time for a price; and will not be importuned either to preuent or defer his day; and in the meane time looks for secret gratuities, besides the main interest; which he selles and returnes into the stocke. He breeds of Money to the third generation; neither hath it sooner any being, than he sets it to beget more. In all things hee affects secrecie and proprietie: hee grudgeth his neighbor the water of his well: and next to stealing hee hates borrowing. In his short and vnquiet sleepes hee dreames of theeues, & runnes to the doore, and names more men than he [Page] hath. The least sheafe he euer culles out for Tithe; and to rob God holdes it the best pastime, the cleerest gaine. This man cries out aboue other; of the prodigalitie of our times, and telles of the thrift of our forefathers: How that great Prince thought himselfe royally attired, when he bestowed thirteen shillings & foure pence on halfe a sute: How one wedding gown serued our Grandmothers, till they exchanged it for a winding sheet; and praises plainnesse, not for lesse sinne, but for lesse cost. For himselfe hee is still knowen by his fore-fathers coat, which he meanes with his blessing to bequeath to the many [Page] descents of his heires. He neither would be poore, nor be accounted rich. No man complaines so much of want to auoid a Subsidie; no man is so importunate in begging, so cruell in exaction; and when hee most complaines of want, hee feares that which he complaines to haue. No way is indirect to wealth; whether of fraud or violence: Gaine is his godlinesse; which if conscience go about to preiudice, and grow troublesom by exclaming against, he is condemned for a common barretor. Like another Ahab hee is sicke of the next field, and thinks he is ill seated, while he dwelles by neighbours. Shortly, his [Page] neighbors doe not much more hate him, than he himselfe. He cares not (for no great aduantage) to lose his friend, pine his bodie, damne his soule; and would dispach himselfe when corne falles, but that he is loth to cast away money on a cord.

The Vaine-glorious.

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ALl his humour rises vp into the froth of ostentation; which if it once settle, falles downe into a narrow roome. If the excesse be in the vnderstanding part, all his wit is in print; the Presse hath left his head emptie; yea not only what he had, but what hee could borrow without leaue. If his glorie be in his deuotion, he giues not an Almes but on record; and if he [Page] haue once done wel, God heares of it often; for vpon euery vnkindnesse he is ready to vpbraid him with his merits. Ouer and aboue his owne discharge hee hath some satisfactions to spare for the common treasure. Hee can fulfill the law with ease, and earne God with superfluitie. If hee haue bestowed but a little sum in the glazing, pauing, parieting of Gods house, you shall finde it in the Church-window. Or if a more gallant humour possesse him, hee weares all his land on his backe, and walking hie, lookes ouer his left shoulder, to see if the point of his rapier follow him with a Grace. Hee is proud of another mans [Page] horse; and well mounted thinks euery man wrongs him, that looks not at him. A bare head in the street, doth him more good than a meales meat. Hee sweares bigge at an Ordinarie, and talkes of the Court with a sharpe accent; neither vouchsafes to name any not honorable, nor those without some terme of familiaritie; and likes well to see the hearer looke vpon him amazedly, as if he said, How happy is this man that is so great with great ones! Vnder pretence of seeking for a scroll of newes, hee drawes out an handful of letters endorsed with his owne stile, to the height; and halfe reading euery title, passes [Page] ouer the latter part, with a murmur; not without signifying, what Lord sent this, what great Ladie the other; and for what sutes; the last paper (as it happens) is his newes from his honourable friend in the French Court. In the midst of dinner, his Lacquay comes sweating in, with a sealed note from his creditour, who now threatens a speedie arrest, and whispers the ill newes in his Masters eare, when hee aloud names a Counseller of State, and professes to know the imployment. The same messenger he calles with an imperious nod, and after expostulation, where he hath left his fellowes, in his eare sends [Page] him for some new spur-leathers or stockings by this time footed; and when he is gone halfe the roome, recalles him, and sayth aloud, It is no matter, let the greater bagge alone till I come; and yet againe calling him closer, whispers (so that all the table may heare) that if his crimson sute be readie against the day, the rest need no haste. He picks his teeth when his stomacke is emptie, and calles for pheasants at a common Inne. You shall finde him prizing the richert iewels, and fairest horses, when his purse yeelds not money enough for earnest He thrusts himselfe into the prease, before some great Ladies; and loues to be seene [Page] neere the head of a great traine. His talke is how many Mourners hee furnish't with gownes at his fathers funerals, how manie messes; how rich his coat is, and how ancient, how great his alliance; what challenges hee hath made and answered; what exploits he did at Cales or Nieuport: and when hee hath commended others buildings, furnitures, sutes, compares them with his owne. When he hath vndertaken to be the broker for some rich Diamond, he weares it, and pulling off his gloue to stroke vp his haire, thinks no eye should haue any other obiect. Entertaining his friend, he chides his cooke for no better [Page] cheere, and names the dishes he meant, and wants. To conclude, hee is euer on the stage, and acts still a glorious part abroad, when no man carries a baser heart, no man is more so. did and carelesse at home. Hee is a Spanish souldier on an Italian Theater; a bladder full of winde, a skin full of words, a fooles wonder, and a wise-mans foole.

The Presumptuous.

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PResumption is nothing but hope out of his wits, an high house vpon weake pillars. The presumptuous man loues to attempt great things, only because they are hard and rare: his actions are bolde, and venturous, and more full of hazard than vse. He hoiseth saile in a tempest, & sayth neuer any of his Ancestours were drowned: he goes into an infected house, [Page] and sayes the plague dares not seaze on noble blood: he runnes on high battlements, gallops downe steepe hilles, rides ouer narrow bridges, walks on weake ice, and neuer thinks, What if I fall? but, What if I runne ouer and fall not? He is a confident Alchymist, and braggeth, that the wombe of his furnace hath conceiued a burden that will do all the world good; which yet hee desires secretly borne, for feare of his owne bondage: in the mean time, his grasse breaks; yet he vpon better luting, layes wagers of the successe, and promiseth wedges before-hand to his friend. He saith, I will sinne, and be sory, and escape; either [Page] God will not see, or not be angrie, or not punish it; or remit the measure. If I doe well, he is iust to reward; if ill, he is mercifull to forgiue. Thus his praises wrong God no lesse than his offence; and hurt himselfe no lesse than they wrong God. Any patterne is enough to incourage him: shew him the way where any foot hath trod, hee dares follow, altho hee see no steps returning; what if a thousand haue attempted, and miscarried; if but one haue preuailed, it sufficeth. He suggests to himself false hopes of neuer too late; as if hee could command either Time or repentance: and dare deferre the expectation of [Page] mercy till betwixt the bridge and the water. Giue him but where to set his foot, and hee will remoue the earth. He foreknowes the mutations of States, the euents of warre, the temper of the seasons; either his olde prophecie telles it him, or his starres. Yea, hee is no stranger to the Records of Gods secret counsell, but he turnes them ouer, and copies them out at pleasure. I know not whether in all his enterprises hee shew lesse feare, or wisdome: no man promises himselfe more, no man more beleeues himselfe. I will go and sell, and returne and purchase, and spend and leaue my sonnes such estates; all which if it succeed, he thanks [Page] himselfe; if not, he blames not himselfe. His purposes are measured, not by his abilitie, but his will, and his actions by his purposes. Lastly, he is euer credulous in assent, rash in vndertaking, peremptorie in resoluing, witlesse in proceeding, and in his ending miserable; which is neuer other, than either the laughter of the wise, or the pitie of fooles.

The Distrustfull.

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THe distrustfull man hath his heart in his eyes, or in his hand; nothing is sure to him but what he sees, what hee handles: Hee is either very simple, or very false; and therefore beleeues not others, because he knowes how little himselfe is worthy of beleefe. In spirituall things, either God must leaue a pawne with him, or seeke some other Creditour. All absent [Page] things and vnusuall, haue no other, but a conditionall entertainment: they are strange, if true. If he see two neighbours whisper in his presence, he bids them speake out, and charges them to say no more than they can iustify. When he hath committed a message to his seruant, he sends a second after him, to listen how it is deliuered. He is his owne Secretarie, and of his own counsell, for what he hath, for what hee purposeth: and when he telles ouer his bagges, looks thorow the key-hole, to see if hee haue any hidden witnesse, and askes aloud, Who is there? when no man heares him. He borrowes money when hee [Page] needs not, for feare lest others should borrow of him. Hee is euer timorous, and cowardly; and asks euery mans errand at the doore, ere he opens. After his first sleepe, he starts vp, and askes if the furthest gate were barred, and out of a fearefull sweat calles vp his seruant, and bolts the dore after him; and then studies whether it were better to lie still and beleeue, or rise and see. Neither is his heart fuller of feares, than his head of strange proiects, and far-fetcht constructions; What meanes the State, thinke you, in such an action, and whether tends this course: Learne of mee (if you know not) The waies of deepe [Page] policies are secret, and full of vnknowen windings; That is their act, this will be their issue: so casting beyond the Moone, he makes wise and iust proceedings suspected. In all his predictions, and imaginations, hee euer lights vpon the worst; not what is most likely will fall out, but what is most ill. There is nothing that he takes not with the left hand; no text which his glosse corrupts not. Wordes, oaths, parchments, seales, are but broken reeds; these shall neuer deceiue him; he loues no paiments but reall. If but one in an age haue miscarried, by a rare casualtie, he misdoubts the same euent. If but a tile fallen from an [Page] hie roofe haue brained a passenger, or the breaking of a coach-wheele haue indangered the burden; hee sweares hee will keepe home; or take him to his horse. Hee dares not come to Church, for feare of the croud; nor spare the Sabbaths labour for feare of the want; nor come neere the Parliament house, because it should haue beene blowen vp; What might haue beene, affects him as much as what will be. Argue, vow, protest, sweare, he heares thee, and beleeues himselfe. Hee is a Scepticke, and dare hardly giue credit to his senses which hee hath often arraigned of false intelligence. Hee so liues, as if he [Page] thought all the world were theeues, and were not sure whether himselfe were one: Hee is vncharitable in his censures, vnquiet in his feares; bad enough alwaies, but in his owne opinion much woorse than he is.

The Characterism of the Ambitious.

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AMbition is a proud couetousnes, a dry thirst of honor, the longing disease of reason, an aspiring, and gallant madnesse. The ambitious climes vp high and perillous staires, and neuer cares how to come downe; the desire of rising hath swallowed vp his feare of a fall. Hauing once cleaued (like a burre) to some great [Page] mans coat, he resolues not to be shaken off with any small indignities, and finding his holde thorowly fast, casts how to insinuate yet neerer; and therefore, hee is busie and seruile in his indeuours to please, and all his officious respects turn home to himselfe. He can be at once a slaue to command, an intelligencer to informe, a parasite to sooth and flatter, a champian to defend, an executioner to reuenge; any thing for an aduantage of fauour. He hath proiected a plot to rise, and woe be to the friend that stands in his way: Hee still haunteth the Court, and his vnquiet spirit haunteth him; which hauing [Page] fetch't him from the secure peace of his countrey-rest, sets him new and impossible taskes; & after many disappointments incourages him to trie the same sea in spight of his shipwracks; and promises better successe. A small hope giues him heart against great difficulties, and drawes on new expense, new seruilitie; perswading him (like foolish boyes) to shoot away a second shaft, that he may finde the first. He yeeldeth, and now secure of the issue, applauds him selfe in that honour, which hee still affecteth, still misseth; and for the last of all trials, will rather bribe for a troublesome preferment, than returne void [Page] of a title. But now when hee finds himselfe desperately crossed, and at once spoiled both of aduancement and hope, both of fruition and possibilitie, all his desire is turned into rage, his thirst is now onely of reuenge; his tongue sounds of nothing but detraction & slander: Now the place he sought for is base, his riuall vnworthie, his aduersarie iniurious, officers corrupt, Court infectious; and how well is he that may be his owne man, his owne master; that may liue safely in a meane distance, at pleasure, free from staruing, free from burning. But if his designes speed well; ere hee bee warme in that seat, his minde is [Page] possessed of an higher. What he hath is but a degree to what he would haue: now he scorneth what hee formerly aspired to; his successe doth not giue him so much contentment, as prouocation; neither can he be at rest, so long as he hath one, either to ouerlook, or to match, or to emulate him. When his Countrey-friend comes to visit him, hee carries him vp to the awfull presence; and now in his sight crouding neerer to the Chaire of State, desires to bee lookt on, desires to be spoken to, by the greatest, and studies how to offer an occasion, lest hee should seeme vnknowen, vnregarded; and if any gesture [Page] of the least grace fall happilie vpon him, he looks backe vpon his friend, lest hee should carelesly let it passe, without a note: and what hee wanteth in sense, he supplies in historie. His disposition is neuer but shamefully vnthankfull; for vnlesse he haue all, he hath nothing. It must be a large draught, whereof he will not say, that those few droppes do not slake, but inflame him: so still hee thinks himselfe the worse for small fauours. His wit so contriues the likely plots of his promotion, as if hee would steale it away without Gods knowledge, besides his will; neither doth he euer looke vp, and consult in his forecasts, with [Page] the supreme moderator of all things; as one that thinks honor is ruled by Fortune, and that heauen medleth not with the disposing of these earthly lots: and therefore it is iust with that wise God to defeat his fairest hopes, and to bring him to a losse in the hotest of his chace; and to cause honour to flie away so much the faster, by how much it is more egerly pursued. Finally, he is an importunate sutor, a corrupt client, a violent vndertaker, a smooth factor, but vntrusty, a restlesse master of his owne; a bladder puft vp with the winde of hope, and selfe-loue. Hee is in the common body as a Mole in the [Page] earth, euer vnquietly casting; and in one word is nothing but a confused heape of enuie, pride, couetousnesse.

The Vnthrift.

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HE ranges beyond his pale, and liues without compasse. His expence is measured not by abilitie, but will. His pleasures are immoderate, and not honest. A wanton eye, a lickerous tongue, a gamesome hand haue impouerisht him. The vulgar sort call him bountifull, and applaud him while he spends, and recompence him with wishes when he giues, with [Page] pitie when he wants: Neither can it be denied that he raught true liberalitie, but ouer-went it. No man could haue liued more laudably, if when he was at the best, he had stayed there. While he is present none of the wealthier guests may pay ought to the shot, without much vehemencie, without danger of vnkindnesse. Vse hath made it vnpleasant to him, not to spend. He is in all things more ambitious of the title of good fellowship than of wisdome. When he looks into the wealthie chest of his father, his conceit suggests that it cannot be emptied; and while hee takes out some deale euery day, hee perceiues [Page] not any diminution; and when the heape is sensiblie abated, yet still flatters himselfe with enough: One hand couzens the other, and the bellie deceiues both: He doth not so much bestow benefits, as scatter them. True merit doth not cary them, but smoothnesse of adulation: His senses are too much his guides, and his purueyors; and appetite is his steward. He is an impotent seruant to his lusts; and knowes not to gouerne either his minde or his purse. Improuidence is euer the companion of vnthriftinesse. This man can not looke beyond the present, & neither thinks, nor cares what shall be; much lesse suspects [Page] what may be: and while he lauishes out his substance in superfluities, thinks hee onely knowes what the world is woorth, and that others ouerprize it. Hee feeles pouertie before he sees it, neuer complaines till hee be pinched with wants; neuer spares till the bottome, when it is too late either to spend or recouer. Hee is euerie mans friend saue his owne, and then wrongs himselfe most, when he courteth himselfe with most kindnesse. Hee vies Time with the slothfull, and it is an hard match, whether chases away good houres to worse purpose; the one by doing nothing, the other by idle pastime. [Page] Hee hath so dilated himselfe with the beames of prosperitie, that he lies open to all dangers, and cannot gather vp himselfe, on iust warning, to auoid a mischiefe. Hee were good for an Almner, ill for a Steward. Finally, he is the liuing tombe of his fore-fathers, of his posteritie, and when he hath swallowed both, is more emptie than before he deuoured them.

The Enuious.

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HEe feeds on others euils, & hath no disease but his neighbors welfare: whatsoeuer God do for him, he can not be happie with companie; and if hee were put to chuse, whether hee would rather haue equals in a common felicitie, or superiors in miserie, hee would demurre vpon the election. His eye casts out too much, and neuer returnes home, but to make [Page] comparisons with anothers good. He is an ill prizer of forraine commoditie; worse of his own: for, that, he rates too hie, this vnder value. You shall haue him euer inquiring into the estates of his equals and betters; wherein he is not more desirous to heare all, than loth to heare any thing ouer-good: and if iust report relate ought better than he would, he redoubles the question, as being hard to beleeue what hee likes not; and hopes yet, if that be auerred againe to his griefe, that there is somewhat concealed in the relation, which if it were knowen, would argue the commended partie miserable, and blemish [Page] him with secret shame. Hee is readie to quarrell with God, because the next field is fairer growen; and angerly calculates his cost, and time, and tillage. Whom hee dares not openly backbite, nor wound with a direct censure, he strikes smoothly with an ouer-cold praise; and when hee sees that hee must either maliciously oppugne the the iust praise of another (which were vnsafe) or approoue it by assent, he yeeldeth; but showes withall that his meanes were such, both by nature, and education, that he could not without much neglect, be lesse commendable: So his happinesse shall be made the colour of detraction. [Page] When an wholsome law is propounded, he crosseth it, either by open, or close opposition; not for any incommoditie or inexpedience, but because it proceeded from any mouth, besides his owne; And it must be a cause rarely plausible, that will not admit some probable contradiction. When his equall should rise to Honor, he striues against it vnseene; and rather with much cost suborneth great aduersaries; and when hee sees his resistance vaine, he can giue an hollow gratulation in presence; but in secret, disparages that aduancement; either the man is vnfit for the place, or the place for the man; or if fit, yet [Page] lesse gainfull, or more common than opinion; Whereto he ads, that himselfe might haue had the same dignitie vpon better termes, and refused it. Hee is wittie in deuising suggestions to bring his riuall out of loue, into suspicion. If he be curteous, he is seditiously popular; if bountifull, he bindes ouer his Clients to a faction; if succesfull in war, hee is dangerous in peace; if wealthie, hee laies vp for a day; if powerfull, nothing wants but opportunitie of rebellion. His submission is ambitious hypocrisie, his religion, politike insinuation; no action is safe from a iealous construction. When hee receiues an ill report of him [Page] whom hee emulates; hee saith, Fame is partiall, and is wont to blanch mischiefs; and pleaseth himselfe with hope to finde it worse; and if Ill-will haue dispersed any more spightful narration, hee layes holde on that, against all witnesses; and brocheth that rumor for trust, because worst: and when he sees him perfectly miserable, he can at once pitie him, and reioyce. What himselfe can not doe, others shall not: he hath gained well, if hee haue hindred the successe of what he would haue done, and could not. He conceales his best skill, not so as it may not be knowen that he knowes it, but so as it may not be learned; because [Page] he would haue the world misse him. He attained to a soueraigne medicine by the secret legacie of a dying Empericke, whereof he will leaue no heire, lest the praise should be diuided. Finally, he is an enemie to Gods fauors, if they fall beside himselfe; The best nurse of ill Fame; A man of the worst diet; for he consumes himselfe, and delights in pining; A thornehedge couered with nettles; A peeuish interpreter of good things, and no other then a leane and pale carcase quickened with a feend.

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Information about this book

Title statement

Characters of vertues and vices in two bookes: by Ios. Hall.

Hall, Joseph, 1574-1656.

Edition statement

1608

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2005-12 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A68130

ID [STC]

STC 12648

ID [STC]

ESTC S103620

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99839369

ID [PROQUEST]

99839369

ID [VID]

3779

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A68130)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 3779)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 724:13, 1142:4)

Source

— Characters of vertues and vices in two bookes: by Ios. Hall., Hall, Joseph, 1574-1656..

Extent

[16], 176 p.

Printed by Melch. Bradwood for Eleazar Edgar and Samuel Macham, and are to be sold at the sign of the Bul-head in Pauls Church-yard,. London :: Anno 1608.. (The first leaf is blank except for signature-mark "A"; the last leaf is blank except for marginal rules and page numbers.) (Each book has separate title page; pagination and register are continuous.) (This edition has "Ios. Hall" on the general title page; C3v line 1 has "Sauior".) (Identified as STC 12648a on UMI microfilm reel 1142.) (Reproductions of the originals in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery and the Folger Shakespeare Library.) (Appears at reel 724 (Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery copy) and at reel 1142 (Folger Shakespeare Library copy).)

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