enigmatical CHARACTERS, ALL Taken to the Life, from several PERSONS, HUMOURS, & DISPOSITIONS.  
By Rich. Fleckno.  
Anno Dom. M. D.C.LVIII.   

To her highness BEATRIX Duchess of Lorraine.  
Madame,  
To whom should I Dedicate these Characters but only to your highness, from whom I've ta'en all the most Noble and Excellent; besides Madam, I owe not only to your Highness the delicious leisure I had in writing them. But if I seem to surpass mediocrity, and approach somewhat nigh perfection, that madam, I owe unto you Highness too, mediocrity in perfection being never where you are; nor can one think of any thing but excellent beholding you; owing this Work then to your highness by so many names; Permit me I beseech you, Madam, withal Humility to offer it at your feet, together with myself, with the Protestation of being all my Life,  
Madam, Your highness's most humble most obliged and most devoted, Rich. Fleckno.   

To the Curious Reader.  
'tIs you'll dull Reader, and preoccupated judgement; not your curious and those have judgements of their own, whom I apprehend in publishing these characters, made lately, with all the advantages and helps, noblest, company, Divertisments, and accommodation could afford, to quicken the wit, heighten the fancy, and delight the mind, whose main design is (as you'll perceive) to honour Nobility, praise virtue, tax Vice, laugh at folly, and pity Ignorance. And what wouldst thou give for the Key now of these Characters? but prithee don't break the lock, with tampering to pick it open. To prevent which violence, know that for all the more noble ones, the persons I intend by them are easily to be known (they being so extraordinary rare, they are almost singular in their kind) but for the other, it will be harder to know, whom I mean in particular, though easier in general, they being so numerous and ordinary, as each one in their own knowledges, and imagination may find out a Key for them though a hundred to one, not the same I intended in making them. Judge freely then, so thou expose not me to the envy of it, nor obligation to answer for't if thou judge amiss; and as thou desirest to have a favourable Character made of thee, give a favourable one, of these Characters of mine.   

To his Worthy Friend Mr. Richard Fleckno upon his Characters.  
FLeckno, thy Characters are so full of wit  
And fancy, as each word is thronged with it,  
Each line's a volume, and who reads would swear,  
Whole Libraries were in each Character:  
Nor Arrows in a quiver struck, nor yet  
Lights in the Starry Skies are thicker set,  
Nor quills upon the Armed Porcépine,  
Than wit and Fancy in this Work of thine.  
W. NEWCASTLE.   

To the same, On the same Characters.  
FLeckno, who reads thy Characters will find,  
That they not only entertain the mind,  
But with the mind, even every sense has part,  
Being like rich Cordials to rejoice the heart,  
Or moved air that music does excite,  
With numerous sounds to give the ear delight,  
Or odoriferous Essences that gain  
A gentle passage to refresh the Brain;  
Whilst they with such variety are dressed,  
As every palate finds a plenteous feast:  
And th' sighing Lover does refuse to look  
On's Mistress Eyes, when he beholds thy Book.  
W. NEWCASTLE.   

Enigmatical Characters.  

CHARACTER.  
Of a Lady of excellent Conversation,  
YOu would not only Imagine all the Muses, but all the Graces were in her too, whilst for matter, words, & manner she is all that is delightful in Conversation; her matter not stale and studied, but resent and occasional; not stiff, but ductile and pliable to the company; high not soaring, familiar not low, profound not obscure; and the more sublime the more intelligible and conspicuous. Her Words not too scanty, nor too wide, but just fitted to her matter, not intricately involving, but clearly unfolding and explicating the notions of her mind. In Manner, majestic, not imperious, conversation that's a Tyranny, with others being a commonwealth with her, where every one's discourse and opinions are free; she never contradicting, but when any speak impertinently, only blushing for them, and saying no more: (a greater reprehension to those, who understand blushing, than can be expressed in words,) Having too much reason to call passion to her aid, and disdaining to use force and violence (the ordinary Arms of falsehood) to defend the Truth, so if you yield not, she does rather than contend, leaving you the shame of a victory, when with more honour, you might have yielded and been overcome: Nor does she rashly take up Argument, and abruptly lay it down again; but handsomely assume it; delightfully continue it, and like an air in music, just then, when the ear expects, it comes unto a close: All in her being sweet, delightful and harmonious, even to the very Tone and Accent of her voice, it being more music to hear her speak than others sing. Then she's withal so easy Company, and far from all constraint, as 'tis pleasure to be in it: whilst others like uneasy garments, you cannot stir in without pain; which renders her conversation far chearfuller than theirs who laugh more but smile less, spending more spirits with straining for an hour's mirth than they can recover in a month again; which renders them so unequal company, whilst she is always equal and the same. True joy being a constant serious thing; as far different from light and giggling mirth, as elemental fire from squibs and Crackers; whence she Prometheus-like inspire all who converse with her, with noble flame and spirit, none ever departing from her company but wiser and far better than they came. It being virtue to know her, wisdom to converse with her, Refinest breeding to observe her, joy to behold her, and a species of the beatitude of t' other life, only to enjoy her conversation in this.   

CHARACTER.  
Of one that is the foil of good Conversation.  
HE is t' others Antipodes, & of a quite contrary hemisphere: his matter or some stale Common-places, like cold meat grown nauseous with often repetition; or else some new whimsies of his own, like French quelques choses, with no substance at all in them: his words or low, and creeping (the very reptiles of a language) or so affectedly high and ramping, as if Eloquence stalked and went on stilts: his manner every ways ungrateful, in a tone harsh and untunable; with Tempests in his mouth, and Lightning in his eyes, whilst he strains his voice to speak loudest in the company, and heats and grows red-hot presently, by force of Argument: impatient of contradiction, and contradicting every one; so obstinate in his opinion, as Faith that removes mountains, can never remove him from't: whence he frieghts all from his conversation; their words (just as in an enemy's Country, in Garrison, daring not to stir out for fear of a surprise) 'tis a Tyranny then to converse with him, none but slaves and parasites would endure (content to swallow his words whilst they feed on him) whose enduring it, makes him so intolerable to all besides, so as the wise avoid his company (just as they would savage Beasts tamed, who unless you soothe and humour them are apt on every light occasion to start and break out to their native savagnes) not always to be in fever of such an Accident, and sick of his conversation; has neither wit for discourse, breeding for civility, understanding to know it, nor patience to learn; but by Pride, Obstinancy and Presumption is forfeited to perpetual folly and ignorance.   

CHARACTER.  
Of an excellent Companion.  
HE is the life and spirit of the Company, that pines and droops without him, animating all with cheerfulness, and is like sparkling liquour to your dull companion, that's only dregs and lees; his presence chases melancholy, as the Suns does clouds, and 'tis impossible to be sad in his company; He differs from the Buffoon, as an excellent Comedy does from the farce, being pure wit, t'other but foolery: He is never dry nor pumping, but always full and flowing; his returns and repartees so quick, opposite and gentile, 'tis pleasure to observe, how handsomely he acquits himself; mean time he is neither scurrilous nor profane, but a good man as well as a good companion; and so far a good fellow too, as he'll take a cheerful glass or two (your fine edged knives always needing the whetstone most) whilst taking too many, is like whetting the edge quite away: he is the only exorcist for the melancholy devil of the times; and I imagine him just like David playing to Saul, and they just like Saul persecuting him: He seeming to your men of business to confer but little to the seriouser part of life; yet he whets the knife of the serious man, and is to business as music to devotion, apting and disposing the mind to it afterwards, tho for the present delightfully, diverting it. In fine, he owes much of his good humour to his complexion, but much more to his company (Always the best and noblest) so he may be poor, but never want, or if he do, it is the fault of the times, and none of his, of which when he meets with a favourable conjunction, he is most commonly the Artisan of his own Fortune, making himself (with a little industry) afar better than others are born unto, being the darling of all your great ones, and nobler sort, the favourite of Kings, and companion for any Prince.   

CHARACTER.  
Of one that zanies the good Companion.  
HE is a wit of an under Region, grossly imitating on the lower roap, what t' other does neatly on the higher; and is only for the laughter of the vulgar; whilst your wiser and better sort can scarcely smile at him: He talks nothing but kennel-raked stuff, and his discourse is rather like fruit ta'en up rotten from the ground, than freshly gathered from the Tree. He is so far from a courtly wit, as his breeding seems only to have been i'th' Suburbs; or at best, he seems only graduated good companion in a Tavern (the Bedlam of wits) where men are mad rather than merry; here one breaking a jest on the Drawer, or a Candestick: there an other repeating the old end of a Play, or some bawdy song; this speaking bilke, that nonsense, whilst all with loud houting and laughter confound the fiddler's noise, who may well be called a noise indeed, for no music can be heard for them; so whilst he utters nothing but old stories, long since laughed threadbare, or some stale jest broken twenty times before: His mirth compared with theirs, new and at first-hand, is just like broker's ware in comparison with Mercers, or Long-lane compared unto Cheapside: his wit being rather the hogsheads than his own, favourring more of Heidelberg than of Helicon, and he rather a drunken than a good companion.   

CHARACTER.  
Of one that imitates the good companion another way.  
HE is on, who now the stage is down Acts the Parasites part at Table; and since tailor's death, none can play Mosco's part so well as he: he is always for him who has best Wine & fare (Body & Soul and all) and soothes and humours them, even to be of the same opinion and Religion with them (right or wrong,) mean time although he be specially devoted to the Patron; he praises the Cook, shakes the Butler by the hand, and is familiar with all the Waiters and Serving-men; calling one Father, adopting another son, as they are of Age, or Office in the House; though he be as pernicious in a Family, as moths, Cankers, or poison, to Mettle, clothes, or health; corrupting his patron's manners to render them more like his own, and impoisoning their ears with calumnying other men, only to engross them wholly to himself: Mean time he is so ill natured, as to serve his end he will fawn on his deadliest enemies; and those once served abuse his dearest friends; equally treacherous both to friend and enemy; for the rest, although with the ignorant, he pass for a good companion, 'tis no pure wit he utters, but only a mingly of clenches, quibbles, and such half-witted stuff he (at best) being rather a pump of others jests, Conceits, and stories, than a Fountain of his own; so he is presently draw dry (after a meal or two) when his mirth failing and waxing stale he is forced to fall to plain flattery, or they grow weary of him straight, as of dead Wine, pottage cold, or meat served up to the Table, more than once.   

CHARACTER.  
Of an irresolute Person.  
HE hovers in his choice, like an empty balance with no weight of Judgement to incline him to either scale; he dodges with those he meets, nor he can ever resolve which way to let them pass: every thing he thinks on, is matter of deliberation, and he does nothing readily, but what he thinks not on: discourse that helps others out of labyrinths, is a labyrinth to him; and he of all creatures would be far wiser, if he had none at all: he begins nothing without deliberation; and when he begins to deliberate, never makes an end. Has some dull daemon cries, do not, do not still, when he's on point of doing any thing, which he obeys as a divine Revelation: He plays at shall I, shall I? so long, till opportunity be past, and then as he did the fault, repents at leisure. He is enemy to Resolution, or rather as Resolution were enemy to him, his heart fails him; and like a coward he turns back presently, at sight of it: He still misliking the present choice of things as Scoggan did his Tree to hang on: He could never Bet at Cocking nor horse-race yet, because the battle or race was always done or he could delibrat which side to take, & he is only happy in this, that his irresolution hinders him from marrying and entering into Bonds: Nor is't (perhaps) the least part of his happiness to be as long in choosing his Religion now, amongst so many new Sects, that sprout up every day; though 'tis thought he is a Quaker; and if he be superstitious withal, he is in for his wits, and next news you hear from him will be from Bedlam.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a fantastic Lady.  
HEr life is a perpetual contradiction, she would and she would not, and make ready the Coach, yet let it alone too; drive to such a place, yet do not neither, Is her ordinary dialect: she differs from the irresolute, in that he is always beginning, and she never makes an end; she writes and blots out again, whilst he deliberates what to write: th'ne being a resty, t'other a restless pain: so you can tell what to make of ton's Negative, and how two Negatives make an Affimative; but of her I and no together, you know not what to make, but only that she knows not what to make of it herself. Her head is just like a Mill, or Squirrels cage, and her mind the Squirrel that turns and whirls it round, and her imagination differs from others, as your Grotesque figures do from natural and from grotesque; In that these have some design in them, but her imagination has none: She never looking towards the end, but only the beginning of things; or if she does, forgets or disapproves it straight: For she will call in all haste for one, and have nothing to say to him when he is come; and long (nay dye) for some toy or trifle, which having once, she grows weary of presently, and throws away. In fine, who are of one mind to day, and another tomorrow, are constant to her, and Satur's revolution compared unto the Moons; For you know not where to have her a moment, and whosoever would hit her thoughts must shoot flying; and fly themselves whosoever would follow her   

CHARACTER.  
Of a greensickness girl.  
SHe is like a Mouse in a Holland Cheese, her house and diet all the same: whence the more she spends in her house, the worse house she keeps, the walls being both her Kitchen and Larder too, of which she eats so long, as she fulfils the old proverb at last, The weakest go to the walls: For which should they accuse her of Buglary, she has this commodity, she could never be starved in Prison, but whilst some eat themselves into Prison, she (by the ostrich help) might eat herself out again: She is a great benefactrix to Masons, who where they find her are sure to find work enough, and her zeal is so great, she has a mind to the Church-walls too, where she might sooner eat up all the ten Commandments, by breaking her fast, than break the Commandments of the Church: no Nunnery would hold her, but she'd break enclosure presently, though for strictness of diet, (however she eat whitmeat) she'd put down any Minume or Carthusian; for a peck of Oats would serve her a week at least, whence you are not to wonder if in questioning her you find her somewhat meal-mouthed in answering you. By her complexion, she seems rather made of chalk or marvel, than that red earth Adam was made of; though she be so meager a soil, she grows never the fatter by it; yet one knows not what a good Husbandman may do, for they say, a good Husband would remedy all; but he must take her on credit then, both for Beauty and good housewivery; few else would venture on her complexion, and such a quality, as if she hold on as she begins, she soon would eat her husband out of house and home: only a miller would take her with all faults, she being much of his complexion, and for her diet 'twould be at others charge, rather than his own; neither are the walls of his windmill comprised in her Bill of Fare.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a talkative Lady.  
HEr tongue runs round like a wheel one spoke after another, there is no end of it: she makes more noise and jangling than the bells on the fifth of November, or a Coronation day; such a wife for Moroso had far surpassed all the variety of noices invented for tormenting him; and would make a husband wish that either she were dumb, or he were deaf: You would wonder at her matter to hear her talk, and would admire her talk, when you heard her matter; but considering both together, would admire: nor wonder at neither, but only exclaim with him, who plumed the nightingale, she is a voice and nothing else, for 'tis nothing but noise she makes, and 'tis the labour of her tongue not brain; whence you would only wonder how that holds out, but for that it moves with as great facility, as leaves wag when they are shaken with the wind (give her tongue breath, and it will never lie still) or rather indeed as atoms move its air, for 'tis quite unhung, and neither depends on nerve nor imagination; there being as much difference betwixt a voluble tongue and hers, as betwixt an excellent vaulter moves artfully, and one who art-lesly precipitates himself: all the wonder is, whilst she speaks only Thrums, how she makes so many different ends hold together (the composition of a tailor's Cushion, all of shreds, being nothing to the wonder of it) but for that she cares not; all her care being only for some to hear her talk (whom she must hire shortly, none certainly else would undergo the noise and vexation) mean time an engine with so constant a motion as her tongue would be far better than any murmuring Fountain, or purling Brook to make one sleep, and she wants only the faculty of talking in her sleep herself, to make the perpetual motion with her tongue.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Taciturne Person.  
HE is the contrary Extremity, and knows as little to speak as tother to hold her peace. Friar Bacon's brazed head was a talkative one to his; and there is nothing so phlegmatic as his discourse; you might have patience as well to tend a Still, that drops but once a quarter, as to attend his speech; the counting whose words, and a Dutch clock is an Excercise much alike: The wheels of his tongue, are like those of a rusty Jack, that ever an anon (for want of oiling) are at a stand. He is like Pharasius picture, all Curtain, and who think there's aught else under it, like Zeuxes are deceived; yet such veiled shrines as he, are counted very Oracles in Cloisters now where silence is in precept and veneration: Whose profession 'tis to be rather good Religious, than good companions; and whose wisdom is the folly of the world; and be they their wisemen, they shall be my fools still, who no more admire silence in them than in vegitatives: Nor shall ever account impotency, perfection; rather when the power of well speaking never proceeds to act; I shall think there wants ability more than will; and that somewhat still in the main spring is amiss, when the clock near strikes; only for this once (since they will needs have it so) I will believe there's somewhat in him, cause as yet I could never perceive any thing come out of him.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Dutch Waggoner.  
HE converses so much with beasts as he's become one himself, with only this difference, that he is a Beast Paramount; and to see him mounted on his fore-horse like a drill, you'd take him for a Beast two stories high, nay to his very understanding he is one; he understanding nothing above the elevation of his Pole; and let them talk of the Papists what they will, there is none speaks the language of the Beast but he: they were mightily out, who feigned a Waggoner in Heaven, when with far more reason they might have feigned one in Hell: For besides he is more churlish than Charon, his waggon is more like Hell, where people are crowded together in perpetual pain; and he like a Fury lays about him with his whip, only in this he is like phoebus or the charioteer of the day, that he always bring night with him to his journeys end. For the rest; tother's Horses eats not so oft as his, nor (for all his Twelve houses) has he so many inns to bait at, and drink at on the way: Besides he is more inexorable than the Sun for Joshua, with calling to him once could make him stay, which call your heart out, you can never make him do. In a word, he does nothing well, but whip his horses, and you can do nothing better than whip him again; for he is saucy and malapert, and as rude as the canvas he wears; being a very tyrant when he gets you in his wagon once, setting a Tax or Imposition on passengers, called drink-gelt, which he levys on the first four places of his wagon, and were ye forty, he promises to you all: Now whether this be a Holland or Flemish Waggoner, there lies the Riddle, betwixt whom there's this only difference, that your Hollander looks bigger and keeps more gravity, as one that may be one of mine Heers in time, whilst tother will never be but one of the rascal rout.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a huge overvaluer of himself.  
He affects a certain Corpulency in all his Actions, makes them rather appear inflate and swollen than great and solid, with a singularity renders him more noted than notable: His wit is rather boisterous than strong, and has more in it of Polypheme than of the hero. He is rather of extravagant than extraordinary parts; and loses himself by going out of the common road; mistaking the point of Honour so, as while 'tis more honourable to beat the world at its own weapon, he is still inventing new: He makes a faction for folly, whilst he would needs seem wiser than he is, and proves that saying true, Nullum magnum ingenium &c. That there's no great wit without some mixture of folly, &c. only gaining this reputation (at last) with all his bustling, that he were a wiseman indeed, who were but all that he would seem to be. In fine he is so unlucky in all his professions both of the Courtier, scholar and the politic, to have his speculations too high, his state policy in the air, his compliments to the skies, and his scholarship above the Moon. Princes not understand th'ne, Ladies not reaching tother; nor can the University with all its Mathmaticall Instruments take tother's height. Like too high prized Ware then, he lies on his own hand still; nor will he ever off, till either he be so wise to bate of it, or meet with such fools, who will over give as much as he overvalues it: Nor avails that excuse which some would make for him: How in great figures, falling not under one prospect of the eye; 'tis hardest still observing proportion: For why does he strive then to make himself so great, and seek rather excuse for error than not to err at all? the Lady— then without rival may admire him still, and he maybe Mr— Wiseman, but none of mine.   

CHARACTER.  
Of an ordinary French lackey.  
HE is as mischievous all the year as a London prentice on Shrove-tuesday, and is devilish valiant with his Rapier on, but is a poor devil when that is off, and you may beat him part in hand, and part on credit, as you please, whilst he is so rigorous an accountant, as if you promise him, cent coups de baston: He looks you should not bate him one▪ He wears mourning linen whatsoever colour his Livery's off, and he and the Dog are always Correlatives: He swears and lies naturally, but steals nothing, only what he can lay hands on; and if you lay not hands on him the sooner, he runs away when he has done; though for running 'tis the worst quality he has, in lieu of which he vault up behind the Coach, with as great facility as an Ape or Tumbler behind his Master: For the rest he does nothing more willingly than pimp for you, when if he can hedge in any common for himself, he counts it clear gain, and himself a free Commoner; he having in that his Masters leavings, as in all things else; whilst he that had his, would be finely sauced indeed. I say nothing of the Dice he has, which however false, do break no squares with him, nor of the Cards, in his pocket (though it be all the Prayer Book he has) only to come to his other qualities: he Paints excellent well four fingers and a thumb, on Privy-houses, and flying dildoes upon walls, with butts at which they are shot; no Saints mind being so elevate in devotion to paradis as his to the Bourdell, to which he runs so often as at last one running mars an other, when he is laid up in some hospital, and there's and end of him.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a suspicious Person.  
SHe is her own Tormentor and others too, putting her mind and them to torture of her suspicions; nor by confession nor denial is there any getting off of them: She suspects every thing, and if you whisper, she thinks 'tis some harm of her. If you speak loud, she interprets it in the worser sense; if you look on her, she thinks 'tis to spy some fault in her; and if you look not on her, she interprets it a neglect of her: Mean time, she goes on with her suspicions, like French post-horses, who when they stumble once, near cease till they are down: She revolving slight offences in her mind so long, till she makes mighty injuries of them at the last. Her surmises being always wiser than the Truth; whilst her friends (both for their own sakes and hers) wish them but as wise at least, and that she had either less wit, or not so great an opinion of it as she has; she imagining she understands the full meaning of every half word, and mystery of every look, when there is none at all: So to every thing simply said, she affixes a double meaning straight, counting it Ironia when any praise her, malevolence when they praise her not, flattery when you are of her opinion, and voluntary contradiction if you hold the contrary: Explicating others words and actions still as heretics do scripture in the dark and mystic sense, when the literal is clear and manifest enough, and you may as well convert t'one as tother from their opinions: So whilst her mind is just like the winter's sun, exhaling more clouds than it can dissipate again, she both loses herself in the mist she makes, and loses her friends by mistaking them for her enemies.   

Of raillery.  
THere is as much difference betwixt raillery and Satyrs, jesting and jeering, &c. as betwixt gallantry and clownishness; or betwixt a gentle Accost and rude Assault. And if I would habit them in their several properties, I would clothe satire in hair-cloth, jeering in home spun-stuff, jesting in motley, and raillery in silk. It being a gentle exercise of wit and witty harmless calumny, speaks ill of you by contraries; and the reverse or t'other side of compliment, as far beneath as that above reality. There's nothing in it of abusive, and only as much in it of handsome invective and reproach as may well be owned without a blush: publishing those praises of you without shame, which flattery would make you ashamed to hear. It differs from gibing as gentle smiles from scornful laughter, and from railing as gentlemen's playing at foils, from Butchers and Clowns playing at Cudgels. 'tis nothing bitter, but a poignant sauce of wit, for curious palates, not for your vulgar tastes. And as Barriers, jousts and Tournment a sport only for your nobler sort; somewhat resembling earnest, and which indeed, none should use, but those who know to make a sport of it: your Northern Nations being most commonly unhappy in this, that when their wits fall short, they piece it out with choler, and the blunter their wits are, the sharper are their weapons still. In fine, 'tis a plant grows more naturally in your Southern Regions, and seldom farther North than Paris yet: Whence whilst the French would have transplanted it with their others fashions into England, like those who first brought in Tobacco, they had but the Curses of the common People for their pains; they understanding railing far better than raillery: much of the nature of those Beasts who cannot play, but they must fall to scratching and biting straight, wherefore till they understand it better, I'll say no more of it, but leave it as a Riddle to them still amongst the rest.   

CHARACTER.  
Of one who troubles herself with every thing.  
HEr mind is just like their stomachs, who convert all they eat into diseases; for every thing is matter of trouble with her, and she's perpetually haunted with a panic fear, and Lord, Lord! what shall I do? What will become of us? not contented with her own cares she troubles herself with those of others, and goes more than a thousand mile to seek them out, being as much troubled for the King of China's loss of his kingdom, as for our late Kings losing his. In which she shows much charity, but ill ordered, a good natural but sickly and infirm, and a great stock of pity and compassion but ill husbanded and managed: nay she troubles herself with conditionary thoughts of things that near were, nor are, nor are like to be: And if others businesses so trouble her, imagine but how she is troubled with her own, of which when she has any, what betwixt doing and undoing it; like penelopes web, she never makes an end; nor can any else for her at last, she so entangles it. And all this through ignorance of how much thought and care she is to bestow on things, whence bestowing all she has on every thing, (as long as there is a world, and she is in the world) her care and trouble must needs be infinite and immense: So as in fine) her mind seems only an Hospital of sickly thoughts; being so thronged with them, there's hardly room for any healthy one: whence through her preposterous lodging all her care within doors, and her comfort all without, she is so unfortunate to have the one still at hand, when she needs it least; and t'other still to seek, when she stands in most need of it.   

CHARACTER.  
Of one who troubles himself with nothing.  
HE suffers none but gay and pleasant thoughts to enter his Imagination, putting the rest off till to morrow still; saying, to day is too soon: and then quite dismising them, saying; it is too Late: He is so great a Master in the art of consolation, as he who when he casually lost his eyes, comforted himself, that there was so much saved in candle light, was but a bungler at it, compared to him. He accounts nothing in this world his own, whence he's never afflicted for the loss of any thing; and for the world itself, count it but as a pilgrimage, and himself a pilgrim, that has no other busness in it, but only to pass through it unto the next: to which since all ways equally conduce; he laveers not by Sea, but ever sails before the wind, and makes for the next Port, be it where it will; and by land, knows all his easiest passages, and all his turnings to avoid uneasy ones, whilst to beguile the tediousness of the way, he has still choice of the best company; and at Relay: So passes he this vale of miseries; so easily he scarcely feels its miseries; neither contracting so much wealth, nor guiltiness, in living, as may make him apprehend to leave tone behind him, in this world when he dies, nor find the punishment of tother in the next. Mean time, that neither the Revolution of things, nor inconstancy of persons, may transport, or trouble him; he has no tie to any thing, nor person, beauty, Riches nor honours having never yet the power to make him quit his liberty, nor has the world chains strong enough to make him slave; he wondering as much at Courtiers, as at galley-slaves; and for those who for a little profit sell their liberties, whilst they call it fishing for a golden fish, he calls it Angling with a golden-hook: So the spendor of a palace▪ and obscurity of a Cottage equally takes his eyes, nor sees he any thing; In the riches of the one to envy, nor in the others poverty to pity, more than the means that tone has more than tother; to make friends and to oblige. Thus having provided against all trouble without himself, that nothing within himself may trouble him: (holding still the mean betwixt idleness and too great employ) he cultivates his mind, rather like a Garden than a field, delightfully not laboriously; with studies may rather render it gay and cheerful, than melancholy and sad: shunning all byways of doctrine, to avoid error, and all highways of the vulgar to avoid ignorance and viciousness; nor puts he his mind so on the rack of hope to extend them farther than to possible and easy things; which failing his expectation, he is no more troubled than at seeing jugglers play fast and loose. Lastly, not to live stranger nor enemy to himself, he first makes compact with's genius, to lead him to no ill, and then follows it, whatsoever it leads him too, doing just by it as by his Horse, which he is not still putting upon new ways, but only spurs when it goes on slowly in the old: So constituting his pleasure rather in content than voluptuousness, and in nothing fruition, may lessen and destroy, or that may be rendered impotent by Age: He can never be without pleasure in himself, nor can any thing out of himself ever molest and trouble him: nor is this a happiness to be attained too, but by long accustumance, and by doing by our mind, just as we do with our Bodies. In time of Pestilence, that is, by carefullv avoiding all commerce with those are sick, else being once infected, all council is in vain; and you may as well bid one that is sick be well, as one that's sad and grieved be merry and comforted.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a chambermaid.  
A chambermaid is as suspicious a name for a Maid, as a Grammar scholar for a great scholar, or a Schoolmaster for a great Master, &c. She differs from the Waiting-woman only as single Roses do from double ones; and is a maid of one Coat, whilst your waiting-Gentlewoman has many; for the rest, she is the gentler of the two, when she falls into gentle handling; marry the rude servingman she cannot endure, telling him she's for his betters, &c. She is the moresubject to tousing, less danger there is of rumpling her, (an advantage she has of the Gentlewoman for all she is so fine) there being more provocation too in her single petticoat (so nigh querpo) than in all tother's silken Gowns. Mean while her words and actions are to be understood by contraries, and when she schreeks and cries fie away, lay by there &c. You must understand they are interjections of encouragement, not prohibition, as when she hids herself i'th' dark or feigns to sleep, 'tis only that you should groap her out and take her napping, &c. only there's a certain thing called sweetheart, and a certain thing called Matrimony that spoils the sport, and makes her shy and cautious; for any thing else there may be sport enough, and nothing e'er the worse: For she may be a chambermaid still, though not a maid; and if she be right and of the Game indeed, whatsoever they say unto her, and whatsoever they do unto her too, she'll be sure to be a Maid still till she be married, when let her husband look where she be a Maid or no; for others they have looked often enough and found her none.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a nobleman's Chaplain.  
ALl Ministers are men of the Lord, but this is the Lord's Gentleman; distinguished by his taffety scarf, his fringed Gloves, bandstrings, and linen more à la mode; his chiefest faculty is in saying Grace: when by the elevation of his eyes, you may easily guess at the temperature o'th' climate, or whether his patron's devotion be hot or cold, (and respectively the meat is the contrary,) having said Grace, he takes Tithes of all, as belonging to the Clergy, only the small tithes of fruit, his Patron debars him off, (if he sit at his Table) he and his fellow Salt together, being both taken away with the Voider; when rising with trencher in hand (just like one playing at Buz) he makes a canonical leg de Cu' & Be●, and is silenst during pleasure, & converted into a grave cupboard or chimney piece: If he fail of the lower end of his patron's board, he claims the higher end of the Stewards; where he reprehends no vice, but too many hands in the dish at once, under the name of gurmandizing, he being more beholding to his short commons in the University, for a good stomach; then for his learning (which is nothing with him) or his preaching either▪ (which is not worth the speaking of) whilst he hung there by the Beck like Barnacles in Scotland, till he flew away a Brand Goose at the last. He takes the mentioning of Sr. Roger indudgion, with all the Apurtenances and Apendixes of Cunny-tails, and Mrs. Abigals, though he makes love in godly manner to the chambermaid, or Waiting-gentlewoman (when his Lord has done with her) by whose favour with my Lady if he gets the super intendancy of the Family, he vexes the servants intolerably with his talking of collegial Discipline, and the statutes of the university, with Orthodox nose prying into every thing, and if he hedge in the Tutoring of my young Master in to boot, he makes him an errant dunce, and fit only for the university.   

CHARACTER.  
Of an impertinent Governant.  
SHe is a fit Abigail for Sr. Roger there, and makes as good a Governant for my young Lady, as he a governor for my young Lord: Her wits (like an old stokin unravelling) are at an end at every turn; and had she the Governance of a whole School, she would run mad infallibly, though she have the spirit in her of twenty School-mistresses, looking with her Pigs-eyes so narrowly to her charge; you cannot approach her, but like a Hen with one Chicken, she clocks and bristles up her feathers presently, keeping such a fidel-fadle and tattling, as you would judge her fitter to teach Parrots talk, or Apes their tricks, than for the charge she has: for the rest of her behaviour and discourse: It speaks her of your under form of breeding right; her quips and scornful answers, strongly favouring of the citizen, as goodly, goodly, great ones! how say ye by that now? &c. And but anger her, and you'll see that with only one weeks' board at Billingsgate she would have scowlded curiously. In fine, she is perpetually busied about nothing, and her whole employment is either in making, or else finding faults; displeased with every thing, 'cause she knows not what she'd have; with which impertinency she so d●zes and bemops the poor Lady, as she learns nothing at all of her, but only to unlearn all she did well, to do it ill. As for her other qualities of curious handling the Bodkin and Needle (at which every school-girl and chambermaid is as good as she) I say nothing 'cause they are not worth the speaking off, only that by the Tree, you may know the fruit; I'll give you the Character of the School where she was bred.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a School of young Gentlewomen.  
TO show how many degrees they are removed from, Court breeding their Schools most commonly are erected in some Country Village nigh the Town, where to save charges (like that country parish that would not go to cost of true Orthography in painting the Ten Commandments) they have the worst Masters can be got, for love or money; learning to quaver instead of singing, hop instead of dancing, and rake the Ghitar, rumble the Virginals, and scratch and thrum the Lute, instead of playing neatly and handsomely. And for their languages a magpie in a month would chatter more, than they learn in a year: nor are their manners and behaviour much better, both so unfashionable and rude, (or ramping and hoiting, or mincing and bridling it, as their reverend Mistress is libertine or precise;) as their unlearning them costs their Parents (commonly) more than their learning did. As for their work (which they most glory in) you have frequent examplers of it, how some one or other (ordinarily) makes such work with them, as the stitches can never be picked out again, without the midwife's help: No sweetmeat shops being ever so haunted with Wasps and flies as these Schools by all the wild-youth about the Town. Mean time, I'll not say their grave Mistress is a Bawd (who thinks herself a very Deborah for government) but certainly her Simplicity is little less; first, gives admittance, than opportunity to such vermin as these into their Bouroughs, who when they get their heads in once, all the Body naturally follows. To conclude, they learn nothing there befitting Gentlewomen, but only to be so gentle at last, as commonly they run away with the first servingman or younger Brother makes love unto them: when their Parents find (to their cost) that all their cost was cast away, and their Husbands after a while find too, how to that old saying of choosing a Horse in Smithfield, and a servingman in Paul's; you might well add the choosing a wife out of one of these Schools, and you shall be fitted all alike.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Novice.  
HE is just like a young Lover, and his order is his Mistress, who makes a fool of him, whilst he Idolatrizes it more than your French Inamourists do their Phillis' and Cloris', and Don Quixots love to Dulcinea was nothing so extravagant. The more dozed and be mopt he is, the better still; 'tis a sign he's right, and has a true vocation: and if he have any wit and judgement of his own, they cry out on him for a very Reprobate: for the rest, he hates all womankind and calls a Petticoat, Leviathan; and a smock but innocently blanching on a hedge: Afteroth or the fowl Devil of Fornication; he walks with his eyes always fixed upon the ground, and crumples up like a hog-louse for fear of effusion: he makes as many stops as an old rusty Jack, and winds up himself, as oft to rectify his intention, he says his, our Fathers as devoutly as others their our Father, and counts all damned who are not friends of his order, as an infallible sign of Predestination, the being devoted to it, and the Patron thereof: he is as lively after a discipline as an Ape, newly whipped, and is no more moved than a statua at a reprehension or reproach. Infine his novitiat passes with him, just like an enchantment, whilst he is so stunned and astonished as he knows not what to do; only towards the end he comes to himself again, recovering by degrees; and the charm once expired becomes like other men.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a filly devote, or a ghostly daughter.  
SHe is a degree farther from the Cloister, and nigher the world than a Beguine; to recompense which, she is more exemplar in her manners and behaviour, walking the streets like an Image carried in procession, without stirring hand or eye, wearing her eyes just like spectacles on her nose, and not daring to scratch though it itch never so furiously for fear of transgressing the rules of modesty: whence a fly is as safe on her nose, as a thief in Sanctuary, and a flea as t' had passport may travel where it please: Returned home she is so neat, she puts all her clothes up i'th' press (almost herself too) brushing her carefully for fear of a spice of Fornication ever since she understood, man was but dust: for the world, she defies it with all its pompts and vanities (and 'tis almost all the vanity she has) and for the devil, she knows' all his slights and tricks so well, as that devil must rise betimes that cousins her; as for the Flesh she mortifies not only her own, but that of her hoch-pot too, giving it so strong allay of Carrots and Turnips, there is no danger of it insurrection. Mean time, she holds her Confessor and the Patron of his order for the greatest Saints, and salutes all the rest, even to the Dog of the House with a Beati qui inhabitant, whilst of her Faith, there is no doubt, and for her good works, you may have a pattern of them when you please; for she is commonly the best Bone-lace-maker in all the Parish, though her principal Trade be making scruples of every thing (if that be not her confessarius work more than hers) to conclude, I could wish my soul with hers, at any time, but not my Body beshrew me) especially on Lady Eve's and other days of devotion, when she Fasts, wears Hair, and Disciplines it most intolerably.   

CHARACTER.  
Of an imitable widow.  
SHe is a Tree thunderstruckk, the more sacred, the more unfortunate; who had long since been dead, when death bereaved her of her better part, but for those living branches engrafted on her stock (for and in whom (more than for and in herself) she lives: She has a quite different computation from other widows, counting from her husband's life, in t'other world, not from his death in this; nor from his mortality, but his immortality, which every day augmenting by consequence her memory of him, every day augments: Whence to show she mourns not for custom, but for the dead, and eternally, not by the year; she hangs her appertement all freshly in black at the years end, when other widows would be unhanging theirs: It's not changing colour sufficiently, declaring that 'tis died in grain: for the rest, she on a second marriages but as a kind of adultery. Incontinence makes necessary and custom lawful, so far below noble woman, as her high thoughts disdain ever to descend into't: or at best accounts it but a kind of Theft, or robbing of the dead; and for hers should hold it a kind of sacrilege or stealing from the Saints in Heaven: nay, she counts your widows marry so soon again, but a kind of Murtheresses, killing their first Husband outright, when they'rere but half dead once; whilst hers long as she lives (indespight of death) can never wholly die, on half of him (at least) surviving still in her.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a more Imitable widow.  
SHe shoots off Husbands as fast as Boys Pellets out of potguns; and one discharged, all her care is to charge again: she is as curious in her mourning dress, as if she rather courted a new Husband than mourned for the old; and her Glass and woman have more ado with putting on her veil and peak than (i'th' days of revelling) with putting on her masking clothes; nor are these any other in effect she only making an injured joy under an outward grief; her veil fitly serving her to hide her laughter in public; as her dark chamber in private, for the rest, she hides all under her widowhood: before company yet she makes sorrowful faces, and squeezes out a tear or two, but alone with her woman she laughs at it; and all their discourse is, Who is the properest man, and who would make the best husband, &c. She counts herself widowed not for her bosom but her Bed (making difference still betwixt a Husband and a Friend) and therefore procures to have that always warm, when her Husband is scarcely cold; whom she presently forgets, never making mention of a former Husband, but only as a spur unto the latter, with a God be with him, he would have done thus and thus; and if they don't so too, is as ready to bid God be with them: so as 'tis only a good dowry and the Itch o'th' tail that makes her marry again, which satisfied once, she cares not how soon she's rid of you; or unsatiat, one suffices not, but she still longs for more: Wherefore were I to marry her, I'd be sure, one condition o'th' marriage should be, she should be no more a widow, or (beshrew shrew me) I'd have none of her.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Fifth-Monarchy man.  
HE Equivocates when he says, Thy kingdom come, meaning his own; and i'th' mean time, looks upon all Magistrates as Usurpers of his right: He is a Saint, turned inside outward, or all sanctity without and none within: his congregation is all in querpo, though they boast the Spirit, and they care for no cloak but hypocrisy: 'tis question whether he more hates the Church for Ceremonies, or Ceremonies for the Church; certainly, he is more familiar with the Lord, than to stand on Ceremonies with him any more; and he so hates a Gentleman, as he can't endure God should be served like one. Mean time, down goes the Churches, and Whitehall should follow too, might he but have his will: a Barn as well as a Church or Palace, serving them, (like savages) both for their spiritual and temporal Monarchy: He counting any place good enough to preach in; and any place indeed is good good enough for his preaching, who teaches nothing but sedition and infatuation, whence whilst others with their Sermons people Heaven, he people's Bedlam or the common jail; calling mirth, profanes; melancholy, godliness; Obedience lukewarmness; and Faction, zeal: making altogether as unchristian work with baptising them, as he does with children. In fine, other Sects run low, but he's upon the Lees, calling himself only pure, like him who being all o'er defiled with dirt, braged that he had never a spot on him; so he thanks God with the Pharisee that he is not like other men, and in that he says true, for he is far worse than they: As for his Fift-Monarchy, he may expect it when all the world is mad, till when he must give all the world leave to believe that he is so▪  
HE is the only persecutor of Ladies, and they may as well be quit of their shadows as of him, he follows them without any regard of Time and place, visiting them a mornings e'er they are up, and scarcely gives them leave a nights to go to bed: whence they compare him with every thing that's troublesome, and comparisons (you know) are odious: He is their vexation in their Chambers, their distraction in the Church, nor can they scarce be private and at ease for him▪ In their closets, or on their close-stools, and when they take Coach, they must have a guard of Swiz at the Boot, or else he'll enter whether they will or no. But what do I talk of a guard? when like a spirit he penetrates any place, and is as good as a Canon, or Petard to force his entrance: whence he becomes so fearful to every one, as they fright children with only saying he comes; and old folks who weary out others are a weary of his company: whence he is in every one's letanies, with deliver us good Lord: and they pray against him as against the plague, he being far the more incurable malady of the two; and he who knew a remedy against the Gout and him, would soon be richer than Mayern, which makes them study it, and many remedies have been thought upon: Some having assayed to make him blush, but that they find is impossisible; others have invented several excuses, but none would serve the turn, not so much as that of business, sleeping, nor taking physic, &c. Ill looks, nor ill words wont do't, and for that way of diversion, some Ladies have found out of late, of keeping handsome Gentlewomen & Chambermaids, they find it afterwards but redoubles of Access, what drives him soonest away, is their threatening to put him him to charges of Suppers and Collations, but that he puts off too, with his wonted impudence; only one, who hath traveled many Countries, and learned many rare Receipts, of late has found out a way, to quarrel him out of their companies; and to perfect the cure, add but a good beating to't, and 'tis thought, he will never dare to return again.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a French dancing-Master in England.  
A French Dancer or Balladin, thinks himself a Palladin of France, when he commences Master and ceases to be usher once: betwixt whom and the French tailor there has been long contention who should be most modish and liker a Gentleman; till the dancing Master carried it clearly away at last, and but for his Pochet might sometimes pass for one; for he is the only Master of the Revels now, and makes all dance after his Fiddle. He has the Regimen of your Lady's Legs, (nay little Montague pretended higher yet) and is the sole pedagogue of the Feet, teaching them not only the French pace but the French language too, as Coupéz, passéz, leuéz, &c. which they understand as perfectly as English. He fetches you up in your Dance with a hei courage, as your Carter does his Horses with a Whip; and is so choleric sometimes, as he is beaten for his pains, and taught to know that he is far better at his feet than hands▪ he goes a Pilgrimage to Paris every year, and distributes his new Branles Gavots and Sarabands, like precious relics amongst his scholars at his return, speaking as reverently, and with as great devotion of Monseour Provost as your Pilgrims do of the Saints, of the Shrines they have visited: In fine, he lives a merry life and a long; for his dancing days are never done, and he is a brave fellow all the year, but on a ball or Grand-Ballet night without compare: only, I'd council him to hide his Kit when he goes abroad, or if the Saints spy it, 'tis but pretending its strings are made of the guts of the Beast, and that they play at the wedding of Anti-christ with the Whore of Babylon; to break it like your English-Fiddles about the Fiddlers ears, 'gainst whom their persecution is so great, as 'twould even extend itself to the sign of the Cat and Fiddle too, if it durst play but so loud as to be heard by them.   

CHARACTER.  
Of your Town-Talkers.  
YOur Town Talkers are a company in Town, who make a Trade of talking of every thing; they work journey work, and are excellent embroiderers of lies; any ground will serve them and 'tis ordinary with them to add o's and cyphers to set it the better off. They deal more by conjecture▪ than almanac makers, and are such expert chemists, they can extract certainty out of likelihood at any time. They wish more for ill news, than ingrossers of Corn for dear years; and are sorry with Caligula, when no public calamity happens in their time. They would be glad the dearest friend they had should be hanged, only to afford them news; and when they have any, are as pregnant with it, as Spanish gynets are with air. They hunt with full cry, and run faster away with a rumour, than a pack of northern Hounds do with a full scent. Their chiefest game is who, and who? and they make more marriages, than justices o'th' Peace. As for Weddings now the Arches are down, they are the only Bawdy court, making Adamites of all the young people in the Town; and instead of the Star-chamber, they censure every one: they'll venture the repute of liars twenty times, for that of prophets once, and make such haste as they prevent times bringing truth to light. In fine, 'tis natural to them, to speak ill of every one, amongst the rest, making bold sometimes with us in the Country, they are not to take it ill, if this once we make as bold with them in Town.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a horrible wicked and deboished person.  
HE is all over Guilty, whilst others are but parcel guilt, his words, actions, cogitations and all; his mind is a room all hung with Aritin● Pictures, and the Contemplation of them is all his Devotion. He is so excellent a chemist as he can extract Bawdry out of any thing: and makes Cato speak it, nay Solomon and David too: He near sees woman, but he lusts her, strips her naked, and enjoys her straight in imagination; when he Fathers the Children of it upon himself, nor thinks he it dishonour to belie the honour of any one. Every thing with him, is incentive unto Lust; and every woman devil, enough to tempt him to't; silk-gowns and wastcoteirs all alike, he playing at women, just as he does at Cards, where every suit in their turns is turned up Trump; he watches wenches just as Tumblers do rabbits, ready still to throw himself corpse perdu after them; whence he has more diseases than an Hospital of which he lies in every spring and fall, when his sweat is a curse of his own, not Adam's sin: Mean time, his word is a merry life and a short, and I know not how merry 'tis, but I'm sure 'tis short enough; he consuming just like a Candle on both ends, betwixt Wine and Women, without which he holds there is no pleasure in this world, and for the other he would fain be Atheist, and believe there is none at all; whilst his manners and ignorance supply his want of Faith: for he lives like one, and knows no soul he has, repents more the omitting an evil action, than any Saint would the committing it: His discourse is all oaths, and his oaths are all his prayers (he never but in them remembering God:) he laughs at Heaven, and imagines Hell only, a pretty winter Parlour, thinks godliness and Religion but folly and hypocrisy; and finally for the narrow way to Paradise, knows no other, but the common road to maidenhead.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a valiant man.  
HE is only a man, your Coward and Rash, being but Tame and Savage Beasts; his courage is still the same, and drink cannot make him more valiant, nor danger less; his valour is enough to leaven whole Armies, and he is an Army himself worth an Army of other men: His sword is not always out like children's Daggers, but he is always last in beginning quarrels, though first in ending them: He holds honour (though delicate as crystal) yet not so slight and brittle to be broke and cracked with every touch; therefore (though most wary of it) is not querilous nor punctilious; he is never troubled with passion, as knowing no degree, beyond clear courage, and is always valiant but never furious. He is the more gentle i'th' chamber, more fierce he's in the field; holding boast (the coward's valour) and cruelty (the Beasts) unworthy a valiant man: He is only coward in this, that he dares not do an unhandsome action. In fine, he can only be overcome by discourtesy, and has but one defect; he cannot talk much, to recompense which he does the more.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Proud one.  
SHe has as much in her of the ancient Counteship as would have served six of Queen Elizabeth's Countesses with their Coachmen and Footmen bare, their cupbearer serving them on the knee; and women waiting about their Canopy of state; yet is she neither Countess nor Lady neither, but only of pleasure, and at courtesy of the country. She looks high, and speaks in a majestic tone, like one playing the Queen's part at the Bull, and is ready to say, bless ye my good people all, as often as she passes by any company; she adding only disobligingnes to her dishonour, whilst she would be thought more honourable by disobligingness; and is but like those tradesmen, who when they have custom enough, grow proud and to disdainful, and must be sued for their ware, whilst those who want it, are forced to sue to you: to hide and plaster it the better, she has two counterfeit vizards, her painting and her modesty; both which she puts of a nights, when she lies with her own face, though not with her own Husband; she pretending by her stately carriage (it seems) the honour of foundress o'th' order of undisparaged Concubines, nor gets she any thing else by her stateliness; but only, when soever there is a Parliament of courtesans, she shall be taken not for one of the Commons, but the House of Lords.   

CHARACTER.  
Of an all-admirable Person.  
BEauty alone is too secular a theme for praise and virtue too monastical an one; together they make an excellent conjunction, so they are accompanied with goodness and obligingness; disobliging Beauty else repelling as fast as it attracts (and losing all its graces by infusing them into vessels disobligingness makes bottomless) neither is virtue ever so honoured, when its goodness is contracted in itself, as when 'tis diffusively good to all: To speak separately than of all these perfections, which she has jointly to admiration: For her Beauty all you call sweet and ravishing is in her Face; a cheerfulness 'tis joy for to behold, and a perpetual sunshine without any clouds at all, joined with such attractive virtue, as she draws all to a certain distance, and there detains and suspends them, with reverence and admiration; none ever daring to approach her nigher, nor having power to go farther off; whence that beauty, which in the days of ehtnicism, had excited to Idolatry; now only excites to piety and devotion; sufficient alone to fill the place with votius tables, and even in picture to work miracles; she being still the greater miracle herself, and so all surprising as a disease, but as taking as her eyes, would be epidemical, and soon depopulate all the world. Then she's so obliging, civil, and courteous, as obligingness, civility, and courtesy seem to be born with her, and it is feared will die and be buried with her in the same grave when she dies; Her speech and behaviour being all so gentle, sweet and affable, as you may talk of magic, but there is none charms but she; nor has complacency and observance more ready at a Beck; she (to the shame and confusion of the proud and imperious) doing more with one gentle entreaty than they with all their loud iterated commands. Whence she alone with her sweetness and gentleness, would tame fierce Lions, and civilize barbarousest Savages; and if there be any fierceness and savageness in the world, 'tis only where she is not, and because she cannot be everywhere: whence Heaven seems only to have made her so beautiful, to make virtue more lovely in her, the one serving to adorn the other; as her noble obligingness and goodness does for the ornament of both.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a gallant warrior.  
HE is a Lover, and the war is his Mistress, whom he courts so nobly as not only she, but all are enamoured on him: all his thoughts are on her, and all his Ambition is to deserve her favours, and declare himself worthy of her; he doing that in effect, which others only talk off; hazard and expose his life for his Mistress, as often as brave Action calls him to't: Mean time, compare him but with your other fine Gallants of the Town, and you'll see what little pitiful things they'll seem compared to him (just as Puppets in comparison with men) he i'th' head of an Army, with brave fierceness in the field; they with little meens and countenances, leading a dance at home; they slicked with pomatum, all patched and powdered; he all covered o'er with dust and sweat, the powder of the Canon frizling her hair, and every patch hiding or showing some noble wound; they finally proud of the favour of some knot or ribbon (their Mistress Dog has honour to wear as well as they) he gloriously returning home with victory, a favour only greatest, Heroes are honoured with: After all which, more to increase their shames, and his glory he beats them at their own weapons too (to show himself every ways a conqueror) and prous the gallanter courtier, as far surpassing them in the gentle Arts of Peace, as in the noble ones of War: With good reason they feigned Venus then enamoured of Mars; only I wonder they fabled him born of immortal race, since in my conceit the fable had been much handsomer, had they feigned (like our Mars' here) his noble actions only immortalising him.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a miserable old Gentlewoman.  
HEr word is, pity any thing should be lost, whilst others say, pity any thing should be saved, as she saves it; for she hoards up Candles ends, and 'scape up grease; being so rich in kitchenstuff, as her very clothes are become part of it; excepting her branched-velvet-gown, (thin as an old groat with the figures all worn out) which she keeps more carefully for Sundays and holidays; nor wonders she at the Jews wearing their clothes in the desert forty years, for she has a pettycoat she has worn as long; her stomacher being a piece of venerable Antiquity, derived from the Velvet of Queen Mary's gown; and her prayer Book was a relic of her grandmothers, till falling into the Dripping-pan (by sympathy) the Dog and Cat fell out about it, and at last agreed to pray on it: since when for want of a Book, her ordinary prayer (without Book) is a God help ye without Alms, for which the Beggars curse her as fast; only your sneezers thank her, because they expect no more from her; for her house, you enter it with the same horror as you'd do one, the witches kept their Sabot in; she sitting purring in the Chimney-corner like a melancholy Cat, mumping like an old Ape when she saluteth you; and when shee'de Regale you indeed, sends for a bottle of Sack from her Closet (as everlasting as the widows cruch of oil) has served this twelve months all strangers that come to house, together with a Box of mermelate so dry, as the flies have given 't over long since, in despair of extracting any more sweetness out of it. In fine, to tell you all the sordid poverty of her house, I should never make an end: wherefore to conclude, her Coffers are only rich (whilst she is poor) where she hoard up all her old spurroials and Harry Angels, with her death's head and Gymal Rings, for whosoever she means to make her Heir, which I'm sure shan't be me, I laugh at her so much.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Ladies Little Dog.  
HE is native of Bolonia, though of no great House (as 'tis imagined) yet he is his Lady's Favourite, and the Envy of her gallants, for his lying with her a night, whilst he innocently snugs and ne'er thinks of his happiness, and kisses her a days, without imagining any harm; for which they suspect him of frigidity, and certainly he is so cold as the Chimney-corner can scarce keep him warm; where he lies in his panier (like Diogenes in his Tub) snarling and barking at every on comes in; whence he's imagined to be one of his cynic sect, yet all caress and make much of him, for his Lady's sake, and that proverbs together, Love me, and love my Dog. Mean time, his chiefest bravery consists in his choler, which you would take for the choler of some Order (of which there are Carpet Knights enough, who would gladly like him be never out of Lady's laps) but that he has no fellow for littleness, all other Dogs seeming giants unto him; and he would scarce pass for a Mastiff amongst the pygmies: though in Homer's battle betwixt the Frogs and Mice, he would have served rarely well, for mounting the Caval'ry, and have put the Infantry terribly to Rout: but that he was spoiled in the managing; he (what betwixt carrying in the Arms at home, and Coach abroad) having legs more for ornament than use: Whence he has (certainly) much to answer for Idleness, but for that he cares not, who never thinks on death (though his life may well be compared unto a span, his body being no more) nor cares he for what becomes of Dogs in the other world, he enjoying all his Heaven and Felicity in this; having a Velvet Cushion for his couch; walking on Turkey Carpets like the Grand signior, being fed as daintily as the Infanta or the King of Spain; nor can he wag his tail for any thing, but he has it straight.   

CHARACTER.  
Of your Lady's colonel.  
NOt to be soldier, he was made colonel at first, and to scape fighting, h'as remained so ever since; whence he's a superlative without a positive, or like a hovel all rouff without foundation; you may call him soldier yet in extraordinary, as they do Courtiers who ordinarily have nothing to do at Court, no more than he in the field ere since he brought the name of colonel to Town, as some did formerly to the suburbs that of lieutenant or Captain. Mean time, I know not whether the Ladies made him colonel, but I am sure they have marred him for ever being one; he caring more for their simpering, than either for grinning honour dead, or smiling on alive: So there is more danger of his over complementing, than over coming an enemy; and for his sword, it can so little boast its blood, as all its gentility lies in the Hilt and Belt; and it derives its honour more from the scabboard than the blade, notwithstanding (though I will not absolutely say, he is a soldier in his heart) certainly in his words he is a famous one, and for such he passes with my Lady's Gentlewoman, who for the title of colonels wife is content to marry him: When she's called Madam and puts hard for Lady too, fathering far more children on him in Peace, than ever he made fatherless in war.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a schoolboy.  
ONe may well say of him, as another did of his Son, that his mother had prayed so long for a Boy, as he feared he would prove a Boy all his life, to which nothing more confers than their breeding in grammar Schools, where they study boys so long, they are marred for ever studying men: coming thence so rude as in compare with those bred at home, they are like ragged Colts of the Commons, compared with Stable-breed; he has nothing so ready, as his Hat at his finger's ends; which he twirls about in mighty agony; when he is out and knows not what to say, and if you question him, he looks another way, as if he sought an Answer in the ceiling, or the floor, and scraps you just such a leg in answering you, as Jack o'th' clockhouse going (about to strike) mean while he speaks i'th' same tone he recites his lesson in, as fast as a Horse running away with his Rider, and as loud as all the company were deaf: ever and anon putting his Nose in's cap, and sneering when he is out of countenance: for his learning 'tis all capping verses, and faggoting Poets looser lines, which fall from him as disorderly as Faggot-sticks, when the band is broke; of his manners I say nothing, for he has none at all; nor is there any hope he will ever learn; his head being so dozed with knocking, & breech hardened with whipping, as h'as neither fear nor wit. Judge then what hope his Parents have of him, and what comfort in his schooling, where he has learned so many miching and sneaking tricks, as had I a son, I loved, I'd send him to Paris-garden, as they do Apes to learn tricks there, rather than such tricks as they commonly learn at School.   

CHARACTER.  
Of one that shall be nameless.  
HE is the only famous ruffian of the Time, and is so exemplary vicious, as in beating their children, they bid them take warning by such an on: his vices are heavy enough to weigh down a side, whence anciently had he been to have fought, they would have desired him, not to pray that the gods might not have known that he was there: He drunk formerly, when he should be fighting, and now talks only of fighting in his drink; whence he is rather scandalous than dangerous, and they persecute him more for his Words than Actions; he cries out on others not suffering like himself; like the Fox, who having lost his own tail, would needs persuade all others out of their; nor is it zeal but envy in him, like your boys, who cry a whip coachman, when they cannot get up themselves: Mean time, he Fathers his decayed Fortune on the Wars, when 'tis well known, 'twas rather caused by his Engagements with women, than with men: and were his Creditors Books well examined, you should find his name there long before the Muster master could show it you in his; which remaining uncanceled still, he thinks to do it by wit instead of money; and to break his Creditors by breaking jests on them; but they are too wise to be witty now a days, and he too foolish not to remember how the times are so changed, as those who formerly for jesting, might have begged others Estates, may now for jesting chance to lose their own, Mean while, more prisons contend for him, than Cities anciently for Homer, on the gates of one of them, you may well write his Epitaph, for 'tis like to be his sepulchre.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a pretty sweet Innocence.  
HEr Innocence is the pure white garment that she wore in Baptism, which in others loses gloss, and is quickly sullied; but in her holds colour, and conserve its candour still, 'tis no witless, but guiltless Innocence, such as was our first Parents in Paradise, of which had they been but as wary & tenacious, they had not lost it so easily, nor had Paradise been lost so soon: She knows no harm, and therefore does, nor imagines none, her ignorance being a far better and surer guard, for her Innocence than others knowledges. She hates Vice almost as much by Nature as by Grace; nor is there any more beholding to both than she: She is virtue's white-paper, whilst others are only blotted, or course blotting paper at the best; and is only fit to write Heavens dictates on. Her innocent stole being of the same stuff & piece, your Angels are made off, which could she conserve like them, but unblemished and unspotted she might go to Heaven in it without Translation, which her noble birth and breeding promises for her in her Infancy; nor is there any doubt, but her high Honour and virtuous mind, will fully perform when she comes to Age all that they have promised.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a scrupulous Honour.  
NEver was curious Beauty more nice nor shy of sun and wind; nor frugal Bravery of contracting spot or stain, than she of conserving her fame and honour pure and unblemished: having such care of its integrity, she dares not trust rumour with it, she fearfully apprehends like some fierce Mastiff, rending and tearing every thing it fastens its teeth upon; this makes her walk so warily for fear of awakening it, so far she is from irritating it, to bark or bite: mean time she strictly examines all her words and actions on this nice Interrogatory, What will the people say? Nor moves she apace without first considering where she sets her foot; by which prudent conduct of hers, she clearly demonstrates, that howsoever foul and dirty the world is, 'tis but picking out one's way, and they may walk clean enough. And all this she does purely from the principals of high Honour and noble virtue, without affectation or hypocrisy; and the care shee'as of the precious odour of her fame, never exposed (she knows) to the subtle theft of public air without some detriment, whence no Ermine is purer, nor Angel clothed in flesh could be more careful of preserving its innocence; nor virtue's self could it be seen with mortal eyes, could ever gain more love nor reverence than she, who of all women alive, has only the true receipt of stopping rumours mouth, of silencing calumny and detraction, and purchasing th' esteem and admiration of all.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Fleerer.  
OF all wrinkles in the Face (next to those of comely Age) give me a hearty laughter, or a frown at least, concealing nothing of dissimulation, but for your fleering, 'tis always the counterfeit vizard of the False, the Descembler, and the Treacherous (and if it proceed from simplicity 'tis as bad on tother side) to add the more to its deformity, it has somewhat in it too of the wrinkles of an Ape, makes it look more ridiculously and scurvily; 'tis a screwed face only made to insinuate into your breast, a warped on, declaring there's no trust to it; having as many double rinds in it, as a Bulbus root; you may annihilate it as soon as peel it out of all of them. 'T've nothing in it of the physiognomy of an honest man; open and cheerful with eyes more smiling than the mouth: in smoothness not wrinkles, unfolding the habit of the mind, whilst this is a Judas face, with what will you give me for motto to its treacherous smile, or at the worst a Scotch Presbyterian face, feigning friendship and pretending zeal only to cozen you, with all its actions fawning and language flattery; and if I would paint a Greek Sinon it should be just with such another physiognomy, red hair, flat nose and goggle Eyes, with crouching posture, and fleering countenance, trust them who's list for me.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a makebate.  
SHe is a tattling Gossip that goes a fishing or groping for secrets, and tickles you under the gills, till she catches hold of you; only the politic eel escapes her hand, and wriggles himself out again: She tells you others secrets, only to hook yours out of you, and baits men as they do Fishes one with another still. She is as industrious as a Bee, in flying about, and sucking every flower; only she has the spider's quality of making poison instead of honey of it. For she has all her species of arithmetic, Multiplication, Addition, and Detraction too, only at Numeration she is always out, making every thing more or less than 'tis indeed; whilst they blame Flatterers for wanting their sicut erat to their gloria; she wants both her gloria and sicut erat too. In fine, you have diverse Serpents so venomous, as they infect and poison with their very breaths; but none have breaths more infectious nor poisonous than she, who would set man and wife at dissension the first day of their marriage, and Children and Parents the last day of their lives; nor will Innocence ever be safe, nor conversation innocent, till such as she be banished human society; the bane of all societies where they come; and if I could afford them being anywhere with Ariosto's Discord, it should be only amongst mine enemies: Mean time, 'tis my prayer, God bless my friends from them.   

CHARACTERE.  
Du Tour a la mode.  
C'est une Assemble ou les Dames sont pareéz pour le Bal, et ou les chevaux dancent un Ballet. C'est un Marché ou l'on n' Estale que la meilleure Marchandice, en reservant le reste dans l' arriere Boutique. C'est une Blanque des visages ou pour un bon, on en rencontre cent mawais. C'est une Battaile bien rengée, ou le Baggage est derrier, ou ceux sont seulement a couvert des ●●●ips d'oeillades, qui sont au fond du Carrose, e●●u les primiers ayant fait leur discharge ilz s'en retirent pour donner place aux autres. C'est un Festin ou ceux qui vont en Carrose sont ●●siz a Table, et ceux qui sont par terre les regardent, et devorent des yeux. C'est l' Eglise 〈◊〉 la Gallantrie ou il y a de la Bigotterie aussi ●ien qu' aillieurs, et ou, on va plus par Curiosité que par devotion. C'est un Ciel qui a deu● monuemens contrairs, ou il y a des Estoille de toutes Grandeurs, et ou les Dames fardées, et de Reputation sont des Commettes. C'est un jeu des Cartes ou tous les valets sont escartez. C'est un Triomphe ou les vaincus aussz bien que les vainqueurs vont en chariot. C'est une Medaille de la vanité du monde et vicissitude des Mondains, anex ces Inscriptions Sic transit gloria mundi, et chácun en son Tour: en fin c'est là ou l'on roule doucement dedans le monde, & si l'on powoit ainsi aller en Paradis, on seroit aussi heureux qu' Elie.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Changeable disposition.  
SUre the Moon had great predominancy in her Birth, there's such a perpetual ebb and flow of humour in her; so as you may go twice into her company, and not twice into the same company: She is a sea without North star, and so full of shifting sands, as there is no sailing by compass with her, nor without the Plumet still in hand: she is all in the extremities without medium; and now 'tis stormy, now sunshine with her: Now she's merry, now exceeding sad; now fond, now froward; now infinitely obliging, & as disobliging now again. Whence who observe her humour are tired out and become giddy strait, and she's only safe in it, in that flattery knows not where to find her out: Mean time, she falls often out with you, and no wonder, for she falls out with herself as oft; and now affirms a thing, & straight gives herself the lie; now does a thing, and presently is displeased at it; assenting or contradicting, as she's either in good or bad humour and disposition; and when that is, you must go to a Cunning woman to know, for she's not cunning woman enough to know herself; her humour being so marred by too much humouring. In fine, she's a very chameleon or Proteus in disposition, changing fashions of mind oftener than the French does fashions of Body; and did she change shapes as often as she does minds, none would know her, and the Reason of all this is (perhaps) only because she does not know herself.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a physician.  
BY sin, sickness first entered into the World; and by sickness, death and the physician. Behold, how some derive his pedigree; others say, that as Lawyers engender processes and laws abuses, so physicians do maladies. Certain 'tis, he and death are but cousin Germains once removed, and both of the same Trade and occupation of killing men; though the physician escapes (by money and corruption of the judge) and poor Death only is condemned for it. An others Reason why never physician yet held up his hand at Bar for killing Patient, is, because the crowner's quest have found it self-murder in those who take physic of them. Certainly, they do more harm and good (for all his saying, that did not physicians kill men so fast, the world would be so full of them, as therer'd be no living one by another) for with their purging they but fill the world with ordurs; and for one stool they give a man, they give him twenty pains, diseases, and molestations; who say that we must honour physicians for necessity: mean only, that they are necessary evils, against whom David prayed (infallibly) when he desired to be delivered from his necessities; mean time, as 'tis said, necessity has no law, so would it could be said, that necessity had no physician too. But this now, is no ways to be understood by our English physicians, but only those of other Nations, who with their six penny fees, have skill accordingly, whilst ours in with their golden fees have golden skill.   

CHARACTER.  
Of the author's Idea, or of a Character.  
IT gives you the hint of discourse, but discourses not; and is that in mass and in got, you may coin and wire-draw to infinite; 'tis more Senica than Cicero, and speaks rather the language of Oracles than Orators: every line a sentence, & every two a period. It says not all, but all it says is good, and like an air in music is either full of clozes, or still driving towards a close: 'tis no long-winded exercise of spirit, but a forcible one, and therefore soonest out of breath; 'tis all matter, and to the matter, and has nothing of superfluity, nothing of circumlocution; so little comporting with mediocrity, as it or extols to Heaven, or depresses unto Hell; having no mid' place for Purgatory left. 'tis that in every sort of writing delighteth most, and though the Treatise be gold, it is the jewel still, which the author of Characters, like your Lapidary produces single, whilst others Goldsmith- like inchass them in their works. 'tis a Portraiture, not only o'th' Body, but the soul and mind; whence it not only delights but teaches and moves withal, and is a Sermon as well as Picture to every one. In fine, 'tis a short voyage, the Writer holds out with equal force, still coming fresh unto his journey's end, whilst in long ones, they commonly tire and falter on their way: And to the Reader 'tis a garden, not journey, or a feast, where by reason of the subjects variety, he is never cloyed, but at each Character, as at a new service, falls too with fresh Appetite.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Dull-fellow.  
HE is the mute of the company, and only plays a part in the Dumb show; or if he say any thing like a pump, he labours for it, and presently his spirits sink down again, and leave him dry. He sits nodding in company, like a sleepy person overwatcht; and rouse him with a question, and he stares on you, like one newly awaked out of sleep: he looks with his mouth, and thinks you would sell him a bargain, and ask him any thing, and 'tis impossible to ask him any thing he understands. He may thank God then for making him when he did, for they make no more such Dunces now a days; so the species when he dies is like to be extinct in him: when if he be saved, it must be contrary to the proceeding of our sessions', and rather by his Ignorance than by his Book. And if he be Bookish with all, he is yet the greater Dunce, being just like a narrow necked bottle, hastily turned downward, upon surprise you can get nothing out of him, and only premeditation can save him from being begged: Whence like a dull Horse, let him go on his pace, and he advances somewhat, but spur him and through diffidence of his strength, his wit fails and tongue shussles, falters, trips, stumbles and falls flat down at last, never arriving to a period. So goes he on plodding his Dunstable highway, till he becomes a famous scholar at the last: Of such wood (or rather blocks) they commonly now adays making most of their great Doctors in the university.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a bold abusive wit.  
HE talks madly, dash, dash without any fear at all, and never cares how he bes●●●ters others, or defiles himself; nor ceases he till he has quite run himself out of breath; when no wonder, if to fools he seem to get the start of those, who wisely pick out their way, and are as fearful of abusing others as themselves: He has the Buffoons privilege of saying and doing any thing without exceptions, and he will call a jealous man Cuckold, a child of doubtful birth bastard, and a Lady of suspected honour Whore, and they but laugh at it; and all scholars are pedants & physicians, quakes with him, when to be angry at it is the avowing it. Then in Lady's chambers, he will tumble Beds, and touse your Ladies dressed up unto the height, to the hazard of a bedstaff thrown at his head, or rap o'er the fingers with a Busk, and that is all; only in this, he is far worse than the Buffoon, since they study to delight, this only to offend; they to make merry, but this only to make you mad, whence woe be t'ye if he discovers any imperfection or fault in you, for he never finds a breach, but he makes a hole of it, nor a hole but he tugs at it so long till he tear it quite; giving that for reason of his incivility, because (forsooth) it troubles you) which would make any civil man cease troubling you. So he wears his wit, as bravoes do their swords, to mischief and offend others, not as Gentlemen to defend themselves: and 'tis crime in him, what is ornament in others; he being only a wit at that, at which a good wit only is a fool. Especially, he triumphs over your modest man; and when he meets with a simple body, passes for a wit, but a wit indeed makes a simplician of him; so goes he persecuting others till some one or other at last, (as choleric as he is abusive) cudgel him for his pains, when he goes grumbling away in mighty choler, saying, they understand not jest, when indeed 'tis rather he.   

CHARACTER.  
Of troublesome kindness.  
HIs kindness is as troublesome as others Ceremonies, and his strokings as painful as others strokes; he asks ye with a great deal of joy when he sees ye, whether you be there or no? and shakes you by the hand till has shaked it out of joint, telling you twenty times, he is glad to see you well; And if he embrace you, and get you in the hug, you had as good fall into the hands of a Cornish wrestler: he asks you so often how you do? as he makes you doubt whether you be well or no, when indeed 'tis rather his disease than yours: He is troublesome at Table with bidding you heartily welcome, and often drinking to you; and being a little tippled he kisses man, woman and child, and out goes all his secrets whispered in your ear: (the shaking by the hand still, in all his kindnesses entering as a necessary ingredient) but above all he is most troublesome when you are sick, with his how d'yees? and pray be well, so as you would give as much to be rid of his visits, as you are forced to give the physician for his: neither are you at quiet when he is absent, but still he writes unto you, and his Letters are filled with commendations, till they run over the margin; and he be forced to end with my paper will give me leave to write no more. In fine, his kindness is rather that of children than of a friend; rather out of weakness than judgement; more luscious than sweet, clearly demonstrating that one may far sooner be cloyed with such slight junkets than with more solid food.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Jansenist.  
A Jansenist is a new name for an heretic, & the first heretic that ever was Catholic: Let us imagine then (to please the Mollenists) your Jansenists condemned for heretics at Rome, by the Pope ex Cathedra, with all his Cardinals, and the Jesuits making Bonfires for joy. Then more to increase their joy and Bonfires; let us imagine them again burnt for French Huguenots in Spain, the Jesuits (of their wonted charity) assisting them to the fire, and exhorting them to die penitent; which they refuse (like obstinate heretics as they are) accusing the Jesuits violent wrestling their Propositions to heresy, which were Catholic enough before, telling them They take their measures of Catholic or heretic, as they are contrary, or according to their dogmas and principals; and for their condemnation, say that they are rather unfortunate than criminal, and that oftentimes the sentence may be just, and yet the person condemned innocent. After which return we to France, and imagine the horrible bustle that is there: The Gallican Church, not admitting their ipse dixit, so easily and absolutely without distinction as the rest do in Spain and Italy &c. but there the Jansenists struggle with the Molinists still, and write divers pernicious Books against them, amongst the rest, one lately entitled the Provincials, making a terrible combustion (confuted by the Hangman, who publicly burned it.) They springing up as fast as Hydra's every day, whilst the Jesuits quell them as fast, like Hercules with his club; for which finally they triumph, representing Father Arnoult with all the ringleaders of the Jansenists blown up like Crackers in a Puppet play, and all their followers at noise and hubbub of it, running away like frighted dogs with bottles of excommunication at their tails, with all the Jesuits Scholars houting after them, and all those of different Religions in other Nations, making their sport at it, notwithstanding all which, Jansenius may be a very honest man.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a certain Nobleman  
HIs Dignity at home, is double the same stile abroad, and mind and person answerable to his dignity: his titles become him as they were made for him, and he shows greater the higher he is in place: He blazons his Arms by virtues not colours, and his pedigree that's but boast with others, is but chronicle with him: He remembers his Ancestors more to their praise than his own; and suffers them to get the start of him in nothing but priority of time: he is great not swollen, high not lofty, humble not stooping, raising his inferiors up to him, without abasing himself to them, (this being an act of weakness, that of power) In fine, he swells not with speaking big, but is courteous and affable to all, holding courtesy so main an ornament of Nobility, as that Nobleman (he imagines) disguises but himself, and puts on peasants clothing, who is discourteous; above all he holds loyalty so essential to a Nobleman, as who proves disloyal once (he imagines) not only degrades himself, but even his posterity of their Nobility.   

CHARACTER.  
Of an other.  
HE is merry and facetious▪ dispatching more business with dallying and trifling, than others with all their plodding and seriousness; and his grimaces are worth all their supercilious gravity: he is your only universal Courtier, beloved of all, and no wonder for he has kindred and alliance with every one, calling one Father, an other Son; one Mother, another wife; giving the younger, the ageder title still; and the old the younger, to be more facetious, and endear himself the more: He has nothing in him of Saturnin and tetrical, but is all pleasant and jovial, wiping from old age, all the blemishes and imputations cast upon't by time; and smoothing all the wrinkles of the mind, which commonly accompany the wrinkles of the Face; nature being so fearful he should ever grow wholly old: as it gives him a youthful mind in an aged Body still; so whilst he enters singing, and goes out dancing in all companies where he comes, he chases melancholy so far away, as it can never return so long as he's in place.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a natural Beauty.  
WHether a cheerful air does rise,  
And elevate her fairer Eyes;  
Or a pensive heaviness:  
Her lovely eyelids does depress,  
Still the same becoming Grace  
Accompanies her Eyes and Face;  
Still you'd think that habit best,  
In which her countenance last was dressed.  
Poor Beauties! whom a blush or glance  
Can sometimes make look fair by chance,  
Or curious dress, or artful care,  
Can make seem fairer than they are,  
Give me the Eyes, give me the Face,  
To which no Art can add a Grace:  
Give me the looks, no garb nor dress,  
Can ever make more fair or less.  
FINIS.   

Apendex.  
Of an artificial beauty.  
AN Artificial Beauty, lives poorly by shifting and borrowing, whilst your natural one, is rich and lives on its own revenues: she is a living Picture of herself, of which she is only the priming cloth, or rather a loam wall plastered and daubed o'er; for she employs the trowel rather than pencil, and her painting is so palpable, as if she sought not colour to hide it, but rather to publish it: She is always complaining now of a cold, now that she sleeps not well a nights, that you may impute her ill looks unto that accident: She is more troubled with her mouches or flies, than a galled horse in summer, now giving this a remove, now a dab with the finger, as if she were killing that; and ever and anon her glass goes out, to see if nothing needs reparation, it being so fragile a tenement, as the very sun and air decays it, whence she is so fearful of every breath, that we may well say of her, that her colluctation is against the spirits of the air: Mean time, she is as dexterous at the Fan as a Butcher at the Fly-flap, or Fencer on my Lord Mayors-day, at the two handed sword: & but imagine how apprehensive she must be of the fire of the other world, when she apprehends so much the fire of this: to which she dares not approach, nor so much as laugh for fear of warping her complexion, so it altars her humour, as well as her feature, and renders her so diffident of herself, as she is still seeking out dark corners, to vent her false and counterfeit visage, as false coiners and cozening Tradesmen to put off their false money and counterfeit Merchandise: she having only this advantage by it, that no shame can make her blush, nor sickness pale. If it be an advantage to become wholly shameless, and have a face, any sick bodies may be as fair as hers.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a petty-politic.  
petty-policy, is only wisdom distempered into Craft, and who use it may well be styled crafty, but never wise. 'tis to Policy of State, as peddling to merchanding; or rather as mousetraps and tinderboxes to Archimedes Glasses of fyring Navies, and Caesar's machines of expugning Towns; never great spirit used it, nor great action was done by it yet, and all the advantage it has, it rather steals than gains. It pieces not out the lion's skin with the fox's tail, but is all Fox skin, and even stinks again. It ever walks vizzarded, & you can never know its true Face, but may always know that it is false: Like the Gordian knot it amuses and puzzles you, and may be cut far sooner than untied: Mean time who use it, may well be styled politics In decimo sexto, and are to State-politicians, as Apes to men, more full of tricks and quirks than they, and nothing else; or like your lesser Wheels, which seem to whirl faster about than great ones, though their progress be far less; In fine, 'tis treachery in fight, perfidiousness in Love, cozenage in gaming, deceit in bargaining; and whosoever uses it in plain English is Knave, though the qualifying terms be a Politician.   

Of a hombred Country-Gentleman.  
HIs clothes are more gaudy than fashionable, and his Face more out of fashion than his clothes: He knows not how to look in company▪ and is shamefaceed, and yet Impudent; either at arms end with you, or in your bosom presently: and spaniel-like stroke him, and he leaps into your lap, if not, he snarls and offers to bite at you. His chiefest discourse is of his Hawks and Hounds, and he will tell Ladies what a fine Horse he has: He is never at so high a flow of talk, as after a Horse-race, and then it ebbs by degrees until the next again: He drinks, and 'tis Gentleman like when he is drunk with Wine, but he's such a clown, as he'll be drunk with Beer; when he fumes and vapours it most fearfully. For wenching 'tis the innocentest vice he has, for he's too miserable to go the charges of silk-gowns, and wastecotiers for fear of Trapanning he dare not venture on: Mean time, his man John and he have many a dry dialogue about his marriage, and he waits on Ladies with fear and trembling, at the horrible charges and expenses they may put him too, being never willingly at more than a bottle of Ale or a pound of cherries at a time; and for Hyde-park, Spring-garden, and the new Exchange, he abhors the very name of them, so unless he have a good estate; 'tis long enough err he get a wife in town, and if he have, twenty to one, but some wife at last gets him, whom he posts down as soon as may be, preaches good Housewifery unto her, has some new religion preached unto him, with which he edifies and gets children apace, and becomes a very Cormudgion in the Country.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a common Acquaintance.  
HE wears out his bosom with embracing every one, and dirties his palm with shaking them by the hand; like a Spaniel he fawns upon every one he meets, and will needs know you whether you will or no; he smiles on you, if you but look on him, and smile on him, and the acquaintance straight is made: his familiarity like engines of great swinges clasps easily, but without much violence can't be unclaspt again: He picks acquaintance out of every Face he has but seen once before, and calls every one he has but seen twice a friend; after which follows kindred and affinity (he having more cousins than Will Summer had, and they are much as near a kin, as patch and he. In fine, his Plurality of acquaintance is but a Seraglio, or wild Concubinage, whilst your friend only marries himself to one, and the appetite of them is a disease in him, much like that of the Wolf, which makes him eat and ravine up every one, not knowing how of all surfeits that of Acquaintance is the worst, and they make themselves by it so common cheap, and contemptible, as any man that's wise, had as lief be the hundreth man in an entail, as the fiftieth man in their acquaintances.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a young Envoy.  
IF you would deceive him tell him truth, and believe what he says If you would deceive yourself; for he thinks he has public faith enough, without needing any particular of his own: He is as intoxicate with his instructions, as a Scotch Presbyterian with reading the Apocalypse, and makes mists and mysteries of state of every thing; he thinks he only understands the politic Wheels within, whilst the rest like dull Gazers only behold the dial's hand without, for want of experience to know, what to keep secret and what not, he makes a secret of every thing, and not to be catched, lies still upon the catch: so till he grow up to a greater State-engin: he is but a politic mousetrap yet: at the receipt of good news, he wearies out himself and Horses with giving advice of it; but at bad he is hushed, and he and his horse's rest; only his brain labours how to extinuate it; deny it, or turn the ill report upon the enemy, till the shame and and novelty be over, which quaintly done, he gets more reputation, by lying than ever any got by telling truth: So returns he at last with reputation of a great Minister making Religion serve to State, & State to all destructive purposes, when his salvation may well be despaired of, or finding his conduct of Affairs traduced at his return: In midst of the disgraces of Fortune and the Court, he may chance be saved at last, and die Repentant, with this saying, of Woolsey in his mouth, That had he served God but half as faithfully as he did his Prince, he had never come to that.   

Of a degenerate Lord.  
HE is a certain silly thing, who since he had no voice in Parliament, scarcely knows what to say: He has made the name of Lord a mock name now, and almost as ridiculous as that of Lord of misrule was in ancient times, and they shun him as they do, Lord have mercy upon us, upon doors; and that deservedly; for he has brought a plague upon himself, in imagining he should be any thing, whilst they were nothing, who made him all he is. As if the Stars should conspire to deprive the Sun of light, or streams to dry up the fountain, whence they flowed; when who would pity them to see every farthing Candle, or Glow-worm out shine the one, and tother's swollen greatness at so low an ebb, as those boldly stride over it now, who before even trembled at the approach of it: Mean time he sneaks in his Title, like one in a stolen cloak, afraid to be seen in it: and none takes notice of him now, unless some one in scorn perhaps points at him, and says, there goes a Lord, or jostles him a purpose, who was wont in former times like Mandarious, to make whole streets retire to give him way: All the privilege of such Peers as these, being only to have every base fellow without commission search their house, every Tradesman cite them before their worships at next shire Town, and the common sergeant drag them away to prison, where they are honourably lodged in the Dungeon, whilst every Rug-gown and Apron-man, has privilege to be coached thither, and lodged in the Rules or Master-sides: and this fine prerogative they have got, would needs pluck down the King, (forsooth) only to be promoted to the King's Bench themselves.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a high-spirited man.  
HIs mind is a thought higher than any other man's, and has influence even on his Body, and elevates that with all; whence he walks on terraces, rather than on the ground, and should more scorn to be seen in plebeian company, than in plebeian clothing; nor can any look so high, but he'el borrow Galileas optic, or he'el look as high as they; and a look, a squint is a fascination, makes him look a squint as far the other way: he is like a glass that renders every one, the same countenance as they give him, and except God and his Prince, can sovereignly dispose of soul and body, he cares for offending none, who first offendeth him. He is more angry with himself than you when you answer not his salutation, and next time he meets ye be sure he'll not answer yours: being as impatient when you undervalue him, as a proud City Dame, when you underbid her ware: and sooner stirred up to disdain by a neglect than any choleric man to anger by offence; so 'tis hard putting an affront on him, but they shall seem to have received one who offered it: yet he's more singular than proud, and though he knows his degrees of persons, knows himself so well withal, as he will converse with no subject but on equal terms, counts none greater that has a lesser mind than he: love's Nobility not for their Titles, but their persons, and can only smile on Princes; As for the rest, he is civil and courteous, and that is all.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Proud ●●ne  
SHe has as much in her of the ancient Counteship as would have served six of Queen Elizabeth's Countesses, with their coachmen and footmen bare, their cupbearer, serving them on the Knee, and women waiting about their Canopy of State: Yet is she nor Countess, nor Lady neither; but only of pleasure, and at courtesy of the Country: She looks high and speaks in a majestic Tone, like one playing the Queen's part at the Bull, and is ready to say, bless ye my good people all, as often as she passes by any company; though she stirs no more when they do her Reverence than than if she had wished, would I might never stir, and t' were a curse laid on her; she paints to hide her Age, and to hide her painting dares not laugh, whence she has two counterfeit vizards to put off a nights; her painting and modesty, when she lies with her own face, though not with her own Husband: Mean time, her froid mine or stately demeanour, is variously censured, some saying 'tis for want of wit, others that she spends so many spirits a nights, It makes her the more dull a days: some that she's founding an Order of undisparaged Concubines, and 'tis the modest habit they are to be clothed in: others again, that she's like your tradse-women, who when they have custom enough, are proud and disdainful, and must be sued too for their Ware: whilst those who want it are forced to sue to you. In fine, all accord in this, that she is more coy than becomes any honest woman, and all she's like to get, by her pride and stateliness, is that whensoever there is a Parliament of courtesans, she should not be for the Commons, but the House of Lords.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a low spirited man.  
HE is low born, and never seeks to raise himself higher than his birth; nor is this content or humility in him, but sloth and baseness: his soul lives in a cellar; and all his words and actions, even to his very apparel favours of under breeding. The senciblest displeasure you can do him is to his Body; and he is more troubled at loss of money, than reputation: he slinks in company, and plays at Boe peep behind the rest, being such a friend of obscurity; as you cannot do him a greater displeasure, than to take no notice of him in company: Like the sensible tree he contracts and shrinks up himself at every little touch, and looks on him; and you daunt him, and strike his eyes inward strait; and his words congeal in his mouth through fear, and want breath still to finish a period: his language too is as low as the rest; whilst he calls a valiant man a kill-cow, a jest, a frump, and urge him to make haste, and he will tell ye, he is none of the Hastings'es: for the rest, he speaks of every thing in the superlative, showing the littleness of his mind, by counting all thing so great: so lives he, thinking, saying, and doing nothing, but mean things, in mean company and mean condition all his life, having neither virtue nor vice enough to raise himself above the common sort; whence where you left him at his birth, there you find him at his death, without making any progress in the world at all: so many years having rather past over him, than he passed over so many years, being only able to render this account, when he comes to die, that he was just as long a dying as he did live.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a petty French Lutenist in England.  
HE is a fellow who comes into England with an ill mien, and threadbare clothes, and there presently sets up a Court of Judicature, arraigning both music, Instruments, and Musicians, for not being a la mode de France; the twelve Ranks of strings o'th' Lute, the double neck, the lessons, the method of ●laying, and almost the hands too, for not being mangy about the wrists like his: he belies great masters; and teaches but his own imperfections: And if his fingers be so weak, they can scarce crawl o'er a Lute, then to play gently and softly is the mode, and doucement is the word: and if so gouty and chilblained, as he rakes the strings worse than if they were grated on by a ragged staff: then fort and Gallyard is the word, and strong and lusty is the mode again; and if you like not his play, he tells ye at least, that he has the only new method of Paris, and that he teaches a ravir and non pareille, and for his lessons (which he has raked out of Gualtiers dunghill, or collected from the privy-house of Defaut) he keeps them as precious relics, giving such out for new, as were made before the Avignon, or the Popes coming there: He is fawning where he is a stranger, and saucy where he is familiar, having ever some vice to teach besides his art: In fine, he is the Mountebank of himself, and though he have nothing at all considerable to commend him, besides his own praises, and his being French (for which reason one may commend the Pox as well) yet there is such a charm in this word, a la mode, and the English are so besotted with it, as the first Frenchman has their money, who proffers to teach it them; nor will this ever be remedied, till some such zealous patriot step up, as he who hearing them talk of the French Pox, bid them call it the English with a pox, swearing we had as good of our own, as the French had any.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Flatterer.  
HE is a mid sort of Animal betwixt man and beast; with the manners of beast, under the resemblance of a man: nay he is a compound of all base vild beasts together, a Dog in fawning, an Ape in imitating, a Fox in feigning and dissembling, and an ass in suffering and bearing every thing: He is so base as he makes not only servitude his daily food, but even the ordures of those he serves: and is worse than those who sell themselves unto the Gally's, for they yet perform the offices of men, and have their minds free though their body's thrall: but he enslaves both mind and body too; and can neither look with the assurance, nor speak with the confidence of a freeborn man: making a vilder merchandise the whilst, than he who sold urine, or the palace smoke, for he for slight benefits sells his own Injuries, & to live a slave sells the dignity of an honest man; neither do they make better merchandise, who purchase him, who whilst he soothes their humours, corrupts their manners, and flatters them into vice: being so infectious, as even to render those he flatters Archflatterers of themselves, with his vild arts like those who Angle with intoxicating baits, catching them sooner ('tis true) but rendering them nothing worth when they are caught: we may conclude then the prayer of him who of all wild beasts desired to be delivered from a Tyrant, and of all tame, from a Flatterer, with this curse on the Flatterer, that he may never live but under tyrants, it being but just, that they should suffer the pain and penalty of their being such, who make them so.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a fair and virtuous Lady.  
SHe is the honour of her sex and that to beauty, as beauty is to others all grace and ornament, her virtue like a charm rendering her beauty invulnerable against malicious tongues; and that which in others is fragile and of glass, so malleable in her as it can neither be broke nor cracked, whence she only has privilege freely to dress herself, without suspicion of harm; and enjoy all lawful pleasures without danger of unlawful ones; whilst all is suspicious and dangerous in others: to conclude then, as anciently your semi gods in marrying with mortals communicated to them their divinity, so her beauty by the marriage of sacred virtue is consecrate and rendered all celestial and divine; those titles which others incuriously usurp, only of right appertaining unto her, who becomes more venerable by age and immortal by death itself, her virtue having raised her above time and mortality.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a quarrelsome Coxcomb.  
HE differs as much from a valiant man, as a wrangling sophister from a great scholar, or dull rumbling thunder in a cloud, from your quick on, that breaketh forth in storms; he is ready to give you the lie before you speak, and then contradicts you what so ere you say, when to avoid fighting, he tells you how often he has fought, and how many he has killed, and some believe him, because indeed they could never see any alive, whom he had fought withal, though others are of a contrary opinion, saying, of all men living, they would choose to be kil'ld by him, for so they should be sure to be still alive: He speaks all Sword, Rapier, & poniard, & understands nothing but cudgel and Bastinado, which he so richly merits, as besides Canes none but would rather want wood to burn, than for so necessary use as beating him, when he is quite straight, for though he be his Angers slave, Fear masters it: and 'tis just like a Nettle, handle it gently and it pricks you, but roughly and you break the point of it, after which, as before he was the fools valiant man, he becomes the valiant man's fool, and by degrees every ones, when once they find him out; yet retains he somewhat of his former nature still, a dull grumbling and wrangling, (that is, half quarrelling) which makes him when he is offended in any company, go muttering away, saying, He cares no more for them than they care for him: which if so, he is the happiest man alive, for I know none lives freer from care than he.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a Complementer.  
YOur Complementer is a French family, that came not in with the Conquest, but the corruption of England, unknown unto our honest Ancestors, who did as they said, and spoke as they meant; he is the rack of conversation, and sets every one's joints a stretching: And in France he derives his pedigree from an accomply menteur or an accomplished liar: for compliment is worse than equivocation, since that has always some mental reservation or lurking hole for truth, but this has none. 'tis the language of hyperbole, and sometimes of Irony; 'tis the language of the Court, where meaning walks for pomp and show, with a long train of words; and that the Courtier uses, to bob of suitors, or bob for those they are suitors too: In a word, 'tis the language of the Idle for to delight the vain, and but a speaking ceremony, as ceremony is but a dumb compliment; whence our new reformers hate it so much perhaps, as they have changed the stile into as much defect of Civility, as t'other was in the excess, they being fallen now upon such a vain of clownishness (or I may say) not bluntness, but churlishness, not of plain dealing, but of plain divillishness, as if they hold on as they begin, pray God we do not wish for our complimenting days again, as far the better extremity of the two.   

CHARACTER.  
Of a young Enamourist.  
He's one who as soon as he has quited his schoolboys toys, next Toy he gets is a Mrs when 'twould make you forswear Love to see how ridiculously he makes it, and to hear him talk of Gods and Goddesses, you would take him for some Pagan never converted to Christianity. There is nothing so cold as to hear him talk of Flames, nor so dull as his discoursing of Cupid's darts, and to hear him sigh like a dry Pump, or broken winded bellows; you would near wonder at Lapland Witches affording winds so cheap. Of all servants he is the necessariest and easiest to content and feed, for he is his Mrs. Squire, Dispenser, lackey or Messenger, but above all her Fool, to which he is bound, by the proverb; 'tis impossible to love and to be wise: Mean time, you may feed him cheaper than a chameleon, for a good look serves him a week at least, and he is prouder of holding his Mrs. Busque or Fan, than a School Boy with a sceptre in his hand, playing the Emperor's part i'th' School; to keep him to which, his Mrs. lets him know that 'tis with Love as 'tis with War, which once declared you are to expect nothing but Hostility; and knows herself, that 'tis with Lovers as 'tis with Anglers, who feed the Fish ere they are caught, but caught once feed on them: Whence she bites not greedily at the bait, but craftily tolls him on with hopes, & like Rope makers goes backwards still, the better to advance her work, and draw him on, mean while he follows her so long, till either he wax weary and ceases his pursuit, or catches her tripping, and then falls down on her, when fastening her in the marriage nooz, he carries her away, and either turns kind Cuckold, and keeps open house for all, or jealous Coxcomb and shuts his doors against every one.    

Catalogue.  

1 OF a Lady of Excellent conversatition, 1.  
2 Of one that is the foil of Good conversation, 2.  
3 Of an Excellent Companion, 6.  
4 Of one that zanies the good Companion, 8.  
5 Of one that Imitates the good Companion another way, 10.  
6 Of an Irresolute Person, 12.  
7 Of a fantastic Lady, 14.  
8 Of a Green-sickness girl, 16.  
9 Of a Talkative Lady, 16.  
10 Of a Taciturn Person, 20.  
11 Of a Dutch Waggoner, 22.  
12 Of a huge overvaluer of himself, 24.  
13 Of an ordinary French lackey, 26.  
14 Of a Suspicious Person, 28.  
15 Of raillery, 30.  
16 Of one who troubles herself with every thing, 32.  
17 Of one who troubles himself with nothing, 34.  
18 Of a chambermaid, 38.  
19 Of a nobleman's chaplain, 40.  
20 Of an Impertinent Governant, 42.  
21 Of a School of young Gentlewomen, 44.  
22 Of a Novice, 46.  
23 Of a filly devote, 49.  
29 Of an Inimitable widow, 51.  
25 Of a more Imitable widow, 53.  
26 Of a Fift Monarchy man, 55  
28 Of an Importunate visitant, 57  
29 Of a French dancing Master in England, 59  
30 Of your Town talkers, 61.  
31 Of a horrible wicked and deboished person, 63.  
32 Of a Valiant man, 65.  
33 Of a all-admirable Person, 65.  
34. Of a Gallant warrior, 68  
35 Of a miserable old Gentlewoman, 70.  
36 Of a Ladies little dog, 72.  
37 Of your Lady's Colonel 74  
38. Of a School Boy. 76  
39 Of one that shall be nameless, 78  
40. Of a pretty sweet Innocence▪ 80  
41. Of a scrupulous Honour▪ 82  
42. Of a Fleerer. 84  
43. Of a makebate. 86  
44. Du Tour à la mode 88  
45. Of a changeable Disposition, 90  
46. Of a physician 92  
47. Of the author's Idea or of a character 94  
48. Of a dull Fellow 96  
49. Of a bold abusive wit 98  
50. Of a troublesome kindness 100  
51. Of a Jansenist 103  
52. Of a certain Nobleman 104  
53. Of another 106  
54. Of a Natural Beauty 105  
55. Of a Artificial Beauty 107  
56. Of a petty politic 109  
57 Of a hombred Country Gentleman 111  
58. Of a common Acquaintance 113  
59 Of a young Envoy 115  
60. Of a degenerate Lord. 117  
61. Of a high spirited man 119  
62. Of a Proud one. 121  
63. Of a low spirited man 123  
64. Of a petty French Lutenist 125  
65. Of a Flatterer 127  
66. Of a fair and virtuous Lady. 129  
67. Of a quarrelsome coxcomb 130  
68 Of a Complementer. 132  
69. Of a young Enamorist. 134   
Finis.