R. Rich. Flecknoe's ENIGMATICAL Characters. BEING Rather a new Work, then new Impression of the old.  
LONDON, Printed by R. Wood, for the Author, in the Year 1665.   

Enigmatical CHARACTERS.  

The Character of a Character▪  
IT gives you the hint of Discourse, but discourses not; and is that in mass, which you may wiredraw to infinite. 'Tis more Seneca then Cicero, and speaks rather the Language of Oracles than Orators; every line a sentence, and every two a period. It says not all, but all that it says is good, and like an Air in Music, is full of closes, or still driving to'rds a close. 'Tis all matter and to the matter, and has nothing of superfluous or circumlocution. 'Tis that in all writings which delighteth most, and the shame of voluminous Authors, that when men have read whole Volumes over, they should think that only worthy to be born away. 'Tis a journey where yo● see the end from the beginning, and pass it over without weariness. 'Tis a market where you have fruit and flowers ready gathered, without climbing or going amongst thorns for them. In fine, 'tis the quintessence of speech, and that which the French call the Point o● Spirit, because it penetrateth most: and in point of praise or dispraise that may be said of it, which was said of Brutus, Quicquid vult valdè vult: Whatsoever it does it does thoroughly.   

Character 2. Of an excellent Actor.  
HE is a delightful Proteus, changing and transforming himself into what shapes he please. He puts off himself with his clothes, and never assumes himself again (not so much as in the Tiring-house) till the Play be done. There is as much difference betwixt him and a common Actor, as betwixt a Ballad-singer and an excellent Musician; t'one only mouthing it, whilst t'other artfully varies and modulates his voice; knowing all his graces even to how much breath he is to give to every syllable. He has all the parts of an excellent Orator, (animating his words with speaking, and speech with action) his Auditors being never more delighted then when he speaks▪ nor more sorry than when he holds his peace. Yet even thên he is an excellent Actor still, not falling in his part when he has done his speech, but with his looks and gesture maintaining it still unto the height: imagining age quod agis only spoke to him; so as whosoever calls him a Player does him wrong, no man being less idle, nor more employed than he; his whole life being nothing else but Action, with only this difference from other men; that as what is a play to them is his business, so what is their business is but a play to him.   

Character 3. Of an Importunate Visitant.  
HE is the only persecuter of Ladies, and after the Ten, they hold him the greatest Persecution. He visits them in their Chambers a nights (when they are going to bed) and a mornings ere they are up: nor can they be quiet in their Closets for him. No excuse of business, sleep, nor taking physic, nor that ye are gone abroad (though you yourself should tell him so) can keep him out; no nor a Guard of Switz at door can do't, for he'll enter like a Witch by the chimney, or like a Spirit, the doo●s and windows shut; and 'twere a miracle beyond the Irish Friars skill, to Exorcise, and cast him out. And if he be thus troublesome at home, much more does he trouble them abroad, (where he thinks he has more liberty) for wheresoever you go, he follows you like your shadow, and crowds himself into your Coach whether you will or no. At Church he is your distraction, at Feasts and Recreations he mars your mirth, and every where he is your sickness and disease; so as a Physician who could find out a Remedy against the Gout and him, would be richer than Mayern. Many have been invented but none would serve. Ill usage nor ill words won't do't, and the keeping handsome Gentlewomen and Chambermaids but redoubles the access. Only one Remedy has been lately found out at Bruxelles, and practised on Marigny, which if well applied, 'tis thought will rid you of him.   

Character 4. Of an Eager Disputant.  
HE has Scollarship enough (like an ignorant Conjurer) to raise Doubts, but not to lay them; and comes from breaking Priscian's head to breaking your●. He thinks 'tis brave to have his speech (like Dametus Armour) composed of several pieces of Greek and Latin, when indeed 'tis only clothing Eloquence in Motley. He seeks Contention more than Truth, and you cannot do him a greater displeasure then to be of his opinion. He has too much Passion to have any Reason for what he says, and heats and grows red hot presently, with thunder in his voice and lightning in his eyes: impatient of contradiction, and contradicting every one; so as Faith that remove● mountains, can never remove him from his opinion. From question of things he comes to question of names, and from thence to misnaming them, so as by degrees at last he quite loses himself, and the state of the question too. And such as these they are who have so rend the Church with their hot Disputations, and made the breach so wide, as that which at first like North and South, was only divided by an individual Line, becomes at last the whole Heavens distant, by their indiscreet going to the extremity of either Pole.   

Character 5. Of a Dutch Waggoner.  
HE converses so much with beasts as he is 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 Cart-Centaure, or 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 much out of their way, who feigned a Waggoner in Heaven, when with far more reason they might have feigned one in Hell: for he is more churlish than Charon, and more exacting money for his fare. Besides, his Wagon is just like Hell, where people are crowded together in perpetual Torment, whilst he lays about him like a Fury with his whip. Only in this he is like Phoebus, or the Charioteer of Heaven, in that he always brings night with him to his journey's end. Nor has t'other (for all his twelve Houses) so many Inns as he, to bait at on the way. Besides, he is more inexorable than the Sun; for joshua with calling to him once, could make him stay, which you can never do hîm, though you should call your heart out for't. In fine, he is a very tyrant when he gets you in his Wagon once, and sets as many Impositions on his passengers; amongst the rest he has one Tax called Drink-guelt, which he levies on the first four places in his Wagon; and were you forty he promises unto you all.  
Now whether this be a Flemish or Holland Waggoner, there lies the Riddle; only thîs looks bigger and keeps more state, as one who may be one of mine Heers in time, whilst t'other will never be but one of the Rascal rout.   

Character 6. Of an ordinary French Lackey.  
HE is as mischievous all the year, as a London Apprentice on Shrove-Tuseday; and is devilish valiant with his Rapier on, but a poor devil when it is off: and you may beat him (especially his Master) as far as Cent corpse de baston comes to at any time. What colour soever his Livery is of, he wears mourning Linen still, and he and the Dog lie together, and are Correlatives. He swears and lies naturally, but steals nothing, only all that he can lay hands on, and (if you lay not hands on him the sooner) runs away with it when he has done. Though for running it is the worst quality he has, in lieu of which he vaults up behind the Coach as nimbly, and with as great facility, as an Ape or Tumbler behind his master. For his Soul he has so little care of it, as he is always giving it to the Devil; and has so little care of his Body too, as he is always running to the Bordello, till at last one running mars another, and he's laid up in an Hospital, and there's an end of him.   

Character 7. Of a Gamestress. Made at Bruxelles.  
SOme say she was born with Cards in her hands, others that she will die so; but certainly 'tis all her life, and whether she sleeps or wakes, she thinks of nothing else. She speaks the language of the Game she plays at, better then▪ the language of the Country where she was born, and can less endure a Solecism in thât, then thîs. She knows no Judge but the Groom Porter, nor Law, but only the Law o'th' Game; in which she is so expert as they appeal to her, as from subordinate Judges to the supremer ones. She loves Winter more than Summer, because it affords more Gamesters; and Christmas more than any other time, because there is more Gaming thên. She gives more willingly to the Butlers, then poor Folks box; and is never more Religious, then when she prays that she may win. She imagines she is at play even when she is at Church, and takes her Beads for Counters, her Prayer Book for Cards, and thinks she's shuffling when she turns o'er the leaves. And she would play like Nero with the Town on fire; or like Archimaedes when 'twere a sacking, rather than interrupt her Game. In fine, 'tis all her life, and as she lives so she will die; when she hopes to go to the Gamesters Paradise, and there play per omnia saecula saeculorum.   

Character 8. Of a Fine Nice City Dame.  
SHe is one your Cockneys call a Beauty, because like a sick Turkey she looks a little bluish about the gills, and has a faint white Complexion of the colour of fletten milk. She has no advantage of a brown Country Lass, but only that her complexion is the unwholesomer of the two, and her skin apt to break forth in scabs. She is so dough-bakeed, and her complexion so raw, as those who have any mind to her, must have the Green sickness, or be half Cannibals at least. Her Blood is all whey, which she clarifies with physic still, whence instead of Children she brings forth nothing but Curds and green Cheeses. She is always complaining she knows not wherefore, and would fain be sick if she knew of what; giving that Physician more who finds her out a Disease, than others would do thôse who cured them of one. She longs still whether she be with Child or no, and her chiefest longing is after every new Fashion; which she must have presently, or there starts up a new Disease; and her Husband gives it her, finding by dear experience, the Mercer's Book far less chargeable than the Pothecaries or Physicians: so betwixt her being sick and well, he is never quiet with her, nor will she ever be sô until she be in her grave.   

Character 9 Of a Curious Glutton.  
THe total sum of his life is in his Bill of Fare, and he thinks all Solomon's wisdom consisted in nothing else, (he knew the nature of all Fish, Beasts and Fowl, and Herbs, Trees and Plants so well.) He counts the Italian the only wise Nation for faring so deliciously as they do, and calling a Wise man huom de buon gusto, or one that has a good taste of things. He undertakes to tell you not only what you should eat and drink, but also how you should eat and drink it too; and is ready to snatch his Ruffs and Goodwits out of your mouth, when he sees you swallow them greedily and ravenously; and is mad if you drink not his Verdea or Frontinack as chickens do their water, with often lifting up your eyes to Heaven. For the rest he is of a good nature and quiet disposition, hating all disputes, since there is no Dispute of Tastes; and for disputes of Religion, so they allow but of eating and drinking, he is indifferent for any one. His chiefest Religion consists in keeping a Calendar of the Months and Days when several Meats come in season, which he observes as devoutly as the Roman Catholics do their Calendar of Saints. In fine, he thinks of nothing else as long as he lives, and when he dies, only regrets that Funeral Feasts are quite left off, else he should have the pleasure of one Feast more (in imagination at least) even after death; which he can't endure to hear of, only because they say, there is no eating nor drinking in the other world.   

Character 10. Of a Gallant French Monsieur. Made at Paris.  
BEhold this gallant Hermaphrodite, in the Chamber more effeminate than Woman, and in the Field more masculine then Man. It is he who has so improved Gallantry, as it signifies not only bravery in Clothes, but in Language, Manners, and Behaviour too. He rises a morning, and having spent some two or three hours in dressing himself, goes afterwards to the Church of Gallantry, where instead of his Prayer Book, out goes his Tortoise Comb, whilst the little whisper to his Mistress supplies the place of Jaculatory prayers; and for one Pater noster he says to God, he says ten Miserere's to her. Mass done, he waits upon her to her Coach, than home where he dines; so as he makes his Body serve his Spirits, and not his Spirits his Body. After dinner he dresses himself again for the Tour a la mode, where he falutes with good grace, and has the jolly rencounters on the way: Then to the Ball, where he utters such Douceurs and delicate Conceits, as 'tis a very Banquet for Lady's ears. Thus having his Diarium, you have the whole course of his life, till he be old, if some Duel or Disease do not interrupt it whilst he is young.   

Character 11. Of a Dairy. Made in Bedfordshire, Anno 1664.  
THou that of Milk the name dost bear,  
And Bourn's of water flowing thêre;  
And dost me with thy Name invite,  
Of low and humble things to write:  
Thy Dairy and thy Pastures fat,  
I'll only choose to celebrate;  
Let others celebrate the while  
Thy Parks, and Woods, and stately Pile:  
Such high things ask a higher strain,  
More low befits my lowly vain.  
In thy so rich and fertile Ground,  
There so much plenty does abound,  
You'd think fair Amalthea's horn  
From fruitful Archileos' torn,  
Some God did from next River tear,  
And with like Bounty placed it here.  
From t●is Rich source, that Milk does come,  
Which when the Cow does bring it home,  
As Bees do Honey to the hive,  
In Cheese and Butter they contrive:  
And should (as anciently) some Fairy  
Nightly come and haunt the Dairy,  
And but see how neat 'tis kept,  
The Shelves so clean, the Floor so swept,  
Money should in their shoes be laid,  
Instead of pinching of the Maid.  
How happy should we mortals be?  
Did all example take from Thee:  
Where all th' oppression ●hat there is,  
Is only in their making Cheese;  
And where there's no percussion,  
But only to make Butter come.  
Idolat'ry that in ancient time  
Was their Religion, as their crime,  
With some excuse we might allow,  
Had they alone Adored the Cow,  
(From which such plenteous good does come)  
And let their other Beasts alone.  
From that comes Butter, Milk and Cheese,  
And Whey, and Curds so white from these▪  
As 'twould the Milky Way appear,  
Should God● look down and see us here,  
As we behold the Galaxy,  
In looking upwards to the Sky.  
And now if any curious are,  
To know why theyare more white and fair,  
Then ever Milk or Curds were yet,  
That from their Lady's hands they get;  
So fair and white, we well may say,  
Nothing's more white and pure than they.   

Character 12. Of Absence. To the Lady— Written at Bruxelles in French.  
Absence's is the Abscinthe or bitterness o● Love, that weans us from the delightful presence of those we love; 'tis the night and winter of Amity: When our Sun being set, or retired into another Hemisphere, we are sad, and restlessly long for its return; and if Death be nothing else, but only a separation of Soul and Body▪ Absence certainly would be worse and more grievous than Death itself; since it separates the Soul even from the Soul, but that fortior quam mors dilectio; A● Love has power over Death, so Time and Place has no power over Love. 'Tis the touchstone and trial of our Loves; and when in presence of those we love, we are all eyes to look on them; and in absence, all thought to think on them▪ 'tis a sign our Love is perfect and true indeed, (as when ●he Painter has no more need to look on the Original, 'tis a sign the Picture is fully finished) Yet Love is such 〈◊〉 ●ne, as without retouching it often on the original, the species and colours of it are apt to fade and vanish; and though sometimes 'tis necessary to be absent from those we love, (that they may imagine they cannot live without us) yet we are never to be so long away, a● to let them know they can indeed.  
However Madam▪ I should be loath to put it to the trial, or to be put to the necessity.   

Character 13. Of the same Lady.  
NEver was curious Beauty more wary of sun or wind, nor frugal Bravery of contracting spot or slain, than she of the least breath of rumour, and preserving her fame and honour untainted and unblemished▪ never doing any thing, without first examining, what will th● people say? nor s●irring a foot▪ without first carefully looking where she treads; by which wise care and circumspection of hers, she clearly shows, that hôwever Rumour be apt enough to spea● ill, yet 'tis but living well, and we need not care what it says▪ and however foul and dirty the World i●▪ yet we may walk clean enough, and but carefully pick out our way. This makes her so admired and reverenced, as virtue's self (cu'd it be seen by mortal eyes) cu'd not be more reverenced nor admi●'d▪ and this makes them propose her as a noble pattern for all her fairer Sex to imitate; who lives so, as no Ermine can be purer, nor Angel in mortal flesh live more spiritually than she, who of all Women living has only found out the way of stopping Rumour's mouth, and silencing Calumny and Detraction.   

Character 14. Du Tour a la mode.  
C'Est une Assemble ou les dam●● sont Pa●●é●●our le Bal, & ou le● 〈…〉 dan●●nt un Ballet. Cest un 〈◊〉 ou 〈◊〉 Estate que la meil●i●e Marthandiz●, en reservant l● rest 〈◊〉 ●arriere Bou●ique●▪ Cest un jeu de● Carte● ou ●ou● 〈◊〉 Valets sont os●a●te●; ●est une 〈◊〉 ●ien Beng●●, ou l●un ne ti●e que des coups ● Overlades, & ou les promiers a●ant fait levi desc●arge ilz s'en vont pour donner place au● autres. C'est un Ciel qui a deux monue●●ens contrairs, ou il y a d●s Esto●ll●s de routes grandeurs, & ou il y a des Commettes entre le rest▪ Cest un Triumphe ou les Vaincus aussi bien que les Vainqueurs vont en chariot. Cest une Medaille de la vanité du monde, & vicissitude des mondains, avec cet Inscription, sic transit gloria mundi▪ & sur ●e ●envers, chaque un en son tour. En fin c'est là ou l'on roll doucement dans le monde▪ & 〈◊〉 on pouroit ●insi alle● en Paradis, on ser●it aussi heureux qu' Elie.  

The same in English▪  
THe To●●r a la ●●ode is an Assembly, where the Ladies are dressed for the Ball, and the Hor●es dance the Ballet; 'tis a Fair or Market▪ where they install all thei● best commodities, and keep the rest behind in the Warehouse: 'Tis a Game at Cards, where all the Valets are discarded. 'Tis a well ordered Battle, where they shoot nothing but Glances; and where the first rank discharging, give place to those who follow. 'Tis a Heaven or Firmament▪ with two contrary motions, where there are Stars of several magnitudes, and where there are some Comets too: 'Tis a Triumph, where the Conquered as well as the Conquerors ride in Chariot: 'Tis a Meddal of the Vanity of the World, and Vicissitude of worldly things; with this Inscription on t'one side, sic trans●t gloria mundi, and every one in his turn on tother. In fine, 'tis thêre where people ride pleasantly and easily in the world; and if they could go to Heaven sô, they would be as happy as Elias.    

Character 15. Of a Ladies little Dog.  
HE is Native of Bolonia, though of no great House thêre, and is his Lady's Favourite, and the envy of all her Gallants, for his lying with her a-nights, and kissing her by day; and they suspect him of frigidity, that he's no more moved with it; certainly he is so cold, the Chimney-corner can scarce keep him warm, where he lies in his Pannier, like Diogenes in his Tub; and you would take him for a Cynic, by his barking at every one. By his Collar you would think him of some Military Order, (as there are Carpet Knights enough, who would willingly like him, be never out of Lady's Laps) but that he has no fellow for littleness, all other Dogs seeming Mastiffs compared to him; and he would scarce pass for ône amongst the Pignies, though in Homer's Battle betwixt the Frogs and Mice, he might have served for mounting the Cavalry, if he had not been marred in the managing, hê (what betwixt carrying in the Arms at home, and Coach abroad) having Legs more for ornament then use: Whence he has much to answer for idleness, but for that he cares as little as others do, and others as little as he, so they may have like him, their Heaven in this world; and have a Velvet Cushion for Couch, walk on Turkey Carpets like the Grand Signior, and be fed as daintily a● the Infant● or King of Spain, whilst he can't wag his tail for any thing▪ but he has it presently.   

Character 16. Of a bold abusive Wit.  
HE talks madly, dash, dash●, without any fear at all, and cares not how he bespatters others or defiles himself; nor ceases he till h'as run himself quite out of breath; when no wonder if to Fools he seems to get start of those who carefully pick out their way▪ and are as fearful of abusing others as themselves: He has the Buffoon's privilege, to say or do any thing without exceptions; and 〈◊〉 call a Jealous man, Cuckold; a Child of doubtful Birth, Bastard▪ and a Lady of suspected honour, Whore; whilst they only laugh at it; and all Scholars are Pedants with him, and Physicians Quacks; when the being angry at it, were the avowing it. In Lady's Chambers he is rude, and tumbles the bed, and touses t●e●, dressed up unto the height, to the hazard of a Bedstaff thrown at his head, or rap o'●e the fingers with the Busk, (and that is all.) Only he is worse than the Buffoon in this, that th●y study to delight, hê only to offend; thêy to make you merry, hê only to make you mad; giving that for reason of his incivility, because it troubles you (forsooth) which would make any civil man cease troubling you: So he wear● his wit as Bravoes do their Swords▪ only to mischief and offend others, not as Gentlemen, to defend themselves; and 'tis crime in him, what is ornament in them; he being only a Wit at that, at which a good Wit is only a Fool. And thus he continues, till he meets with some or other as cho●serick as he is abusive, when afeard of a beating, he goes away and says, they understand not jest, when indeed 'tis rather he.   

Character 17. Of a modern Casuist.  
HE is your only Conscience-monger, and frames it wide or straight, as he lists himself▪ he leaves no Usury, whilst he makes all Usurers'; and takes away the sins of the world, but makes more sinners than there were before. He has his several wards for several sins, as Equivocation against lying, and secret recompensation against theft, so rectifying the Conscience, as he can set it right again at any time: He can make any thing good with a distinction, and mar it again with another; especially, he has particular cases for Princes, in confidence of which should they offer to go to Heaven, St. Peter 'tis thought would hardly allow of thêm, (as Scholastical Quirks invented since his time.) Amongst the rest, he is so partial to his own Country Vices, as Drunkenness with the Dutch is almost no vice at all, nor Fornication with the Spaniard; mean time the ignorance of what he writes makes people more virtuous than the reading it; his Writings being nothing else but a Rhapsody of all Vices in general, whence, consequently by reading them particular person● must needs know more vices than they did before; and for him himself, for all his nice distinctions, woe be to him, if when he comes to die, he meets with some such ignorant Devil as that Lawyer did, who could not make him understand him for his heart, but he would needs carry him away to Hell whether he would or no.   

Character 18. Of an Anabaptist, or Fifth-Monarchy man.  
WHen in the Lord's Prayer he says, Thy Kingdom come, he equivocates and means his own, looking upon Magistrate's bu● as Usurpers of his Right, he is a Saint turned inside outwards, or all Sanctity without, and non● within; his Congregation, however they boast the Spirit, are all in Querpo▪ and they use no other Cloak but only Hypocrisy▪ 'tis question whether he more hates th● Church for Ceremonies, or Ceremonies for the Church; but for him he is more familiar with the Lord, then to stand on Ceremonies with him; he Tholing him at every word▪ and speaking with less reverence to him, than any Clown does to hi● Landlord▪ he so hates a Gentleman, as he can't endure God should b● served like one: Mean time down go the Churches, and Whitehall should follow too, might they but have their wills; a Barn (like Savages) serving them instead both of Church and Palace, they counting any place good enough to preach in; and any place indeed is good enough for their preaching, who teach nothing but Sedition and Infatuation; and whilst others with their Sermons people Heaven, they with thêirs only people Bedlam and the common Goal. He calls Mirth Profaneness, Melancholy Godliness, Obedience Lukewarmness, and Faction Zeal, making as unchristian work with that, a● with Baptising their Children; and calls himself pure, like him, who over head and ears in dirt, boasted that he had never a spot on him▪ so he thanks God with the Pharisee, that he is not like o●her men, and in that he says true, for he is fa● worse than they.   

Character 19 Of a Dutch Frow▪ Made in Holland.  
SHe is nea● and cleanly in her House, but not in he●self, and so frugal in the Kitchen, that if there be any Grease, Kitchenstuff, or Candles ends, 'tis sure to go to pot; there is no entering any of her other Rooms, without first putting off your Shoes, as if 'twere holy Ground; and you'd better spit in her face then spit in't, whilst you are there; her Tongues and Fireshovel, with all the res● of her Chimney-implements, serve more for ornament then use; and you may assoon ge● her to set fire on the house, as make a fire in any Chimney besides the Kitchen one; for her own Chimney, 'tis under her Coats in her Lul●pot, with which she so bemackerels he● Thighs, as you'd take her for a Maremaid, half fish, half flesh, by which unnatural heat she brings forth nothing but Zooterkins: Sh● never travels without her basket full of Provan●, or half Stivers worth of Shrimps or Nuts, with cracking and nibbling of which (besides her tattling) she entertains herself upon the way, and when she comes home, puts up every thing in a Press, her Band, and Huke, and self too when she goes to bed. She housewives every thing so well, as not a se●m of her Gloves, but she has derned over twe●ty times at least; and she's so great an enemy to Superfluity; as he● Handkerchief would scarce make a Plaster for her Nose. There goes always some branch●-velvet, or tuff-taffity to the Stomacher of he● Holiday Gown, and the silver Chain, with all its appendi●es, muft on on Sundays, or she'll go to the Lombard for it. In fine, she keeps the House or Shop all day, and at night her Husband and she drink lovingly together, till they are Maudlin-drunk, and then they go to bed together, and s●eep like pigs.   

Character 20. Of a strange Disposition.  
HE is rather made of Oak than Willow, and will sooner break, than bow. He counts stooping baseness, and except thât civil respect which is due unto their place and titles, he cannot flatter or fawn on any man; but like their Mirours, the same countenance they show him, he shew● them again▪ and excepting hi● Prince, who can Sovereignly dispose of his Body; and God, who can dispose of his Soul and Body both, he cares for offending no body, who ●hall first have offended him; and none ever looked so high on him, but he'd get a Perspective, or he'd look as high as they: This gets him many enemies, and hinders him from getting many friends; for every one would be complied with all, and he has not complacency for every one; nor can he help it, for 'tis his nature, and we can as easily change our outward form and features, as our inward ●ind and disposition, (after by long accustoming 'tis past into nature once) and his friends like it well enough in him, as knowing, that of such wood your best Friends are made; nor was there ever Flatterer of that disposition.   

Character 21. Of a Stage-Critick.  
He goes to Plays only to find fault thêre, and if he finds none, he makes them, (like your Flesh-flies, who not only leave sound places, to light on sores, but are such venomous ones, as they even make sound places, ●ore, with their flye-blowing them.) In the Coffee-house he is of the Peace and Quorum, and gravely sitting on the Bench thêre, (like Justice Clack) condemns first and examines afterwards; but every where else, he i● out of Commission, & as ridiculous as t'other is on the Stage, (they holding him for a judge without judgement, and Author without Authority.) He is an Heretic in Poetry, (or Fanatic, which is worse) and is quite fallen from the Faith of his Forefathers, who believed in the Poet's Infallibility; and so Fletcher made the Play, it was enough with them: But if Fletcher were alive now, or any man living writ like him, he's resolved to condemn him whosoever he be, who praifes the dead only to dispraise the living. Mean time, he spends his ●udgement so fast on others, as he leaves none for himself at length, and having all his Wit from Plays, spends it all in censuring them; so as 'tis no longer▪ Judgement but Madness in him, beyond the Cure of Bedlam or Helibor.—  
But why do I trouble myself with describing him in Prose, when 'tis done already in Verse, in Answer to a certain Lampoon▪ made against▪ Plays and Poets, entitled, A Sessions of Apollo.  

The Answer.  
A Sessions not of Apollo but Bacchus,  
Was lately held in a Coffee or Sack-house,  
Where all would needs be Poets Dramatic▪  
Though none understood nor the Theory nor Practic▪  
And these forsooth with their little or no wits,  
Would sit in judgement of Plays and of Poets.  
Is't now enouf that Plays on the Stage  
Have so long born the Brunt of Fanatical Rage,  
Whilst out of the Pulpit, as out of the Cannon,  
Th●ave thundered such Volleys of Rail upon 'em;  
But such as these in a Tavern must sit,  
And arraign and condemn the Plays and the Wit?  
How Ti●es are changed! In our forefather's days,  
Only those who had Wit were judges of Plays;  
But every one now is a Censurer grown▪  
And who more forward than those who have none?  
But to conclude with our grave Tavern-Benchers,  
Composed of riotous Gamesters and Wenchers,  
Of half-witted Jeerers, and Hectoring Fighters,  
Unless they give over their censuring the Writers,  
They'll shortly repent it, when at their next Sessions  
Their Names shall be told as well as Professions;  
And they so described, as people shall say,  
When they see but their faces, behold these are they.    

Character 22. Of a Complementer.  
He is a certain cringing thing, that stoops  
Just like a Tumbler when he vaults through hoops;  
Or Daw or Magpie, when at fruit it pecks  
Alternately their tails above their beeks.  
HE is the Rack of Conversation, that sets every one's Joints a stretching, and had been banished Sparta▪ Infallibly, for adding so many superfluous words unto the Dialect. He is a Puritan in Manners, as others are in Religion, and troubles you more with his long Preambles, than t'other with his long Graces; and in thîs is less conscionable than thêy, in using Ceremonies too, to make it more troublesome. The French has a good Etymology or derivation of his Name, and ●ayes, that a Complementer is but an Acomply menteur, or an accomplished Liar; and they say trûe, for Complementing is but a new way of Lying, not directly, but by Circumlocution; and Truth has always been out of fashion, since ît came în. 'Tis a new Language added to those of Babel, and has brought a greater confusion into the world; for those were invented for better explaining and declaring of the mind, but thîs for hiding and concealing it. 'Tis the Court cipher, that is sometimes to be understood contra, or by contraries; sometimes praeter, or besides, but never literally, and in the genuine sense. In fine, 'tis the Language of Flattery, Irony, or Hypocrisy, wholly unknown to our honest Ancestors, nor shall we be ever so honest as they were, till we have quite left it off.   

Character 23. Of a makebate, or sour of Dissension.  
SHe is a tattling Gossip, and one of the Devils Day-Labourers, that sows his Tares for him, or seed of dissension. She tells you this and this such an one said of you, when you may be sure, 'tis either wholly false or never wholly true, (she having either wholly invented it, or added so much to it, as makes it an a●rant Lye.) She goes a fishing for secrets, and tells you those of others, only to hook yours out of you, baiting men as they do fishes, one with another still. She chooses the softest Breasts, as easiest to be corrupted, and those (like an insinuating worm) she wriggles herself into, till she has quite corrupted them; the oil with which she supples them, is Flattery; and that which she chiefly flatters, is others Vices; for Virtues, she should be sorry that they had any, lest they should be too virtuous for her company. In fine, they talk of Serpents so venomous, as they infect and poison with their very breaths; but if ever any's breaths were venomous, 'tis hers, (who would set Man and Wife at dissension the first day of their Marriage, and Child and Parents the last day of their lives) Nor will innocence ever be safe, or conversation innocent, till such as she be banished humane society, (the bane of all Societies where they come) and if I could afford them being any where, it should be only with Ariosto's Discord amongst mine Enemies; mean time 't shall be my prayer, God bless my friends from them.   

Character 24. Of a Chambermaid.  
A Chambermaid by a certain Figure signifies no Maid at all; as homo pictus, or a painted man does no man. She differs from the Waiting-Gentlewoman, as single Roses do from double ones, and is a Maid of one Coat only, whilst t'other has many; yet there is more provocation in her single Petticoat and Waistcoat, (as coming nigher Querpo) than t'other has in all her Gowns and Petticoats. She is like a Nettle, handle her gently, and she's angry, but touse her sound, and she takes it patiently; only she is coy and disdainful to the Servingmen, telling them, she is for their betters; and so she is indeed, for a Gentleman may do any thing with her, in a civil way. Above all, she is very serviceable to her Master when her Lady lies in, who takes order to marry her the sooner for it. In fine, if she be a right Chambermaid, and of the Game indeed, say what you will, or do what you will unto her, she'll be sure to be a Maid still, till she be married: when, let her Husband look if she be one or no, for others have often looked and found her none.   

Character 25. Of troublesome Kindness.  
WHen he meets you, he asks you with a great deal of joy, whether you be there or no? and though you have never so much business, makes you stay. He shakes you by the hand, till h'as shaked it out of joint, and tells you twenty times, he's glad to see you well; and if he embrace you, and get you in the hug, you'd as good fall into the hands of a Cornish Wrestler. He is troublesome at Table, with bidding you heartily welcome, and often drinking unto you, whilst he winks upon you without knowing wherefore himself, and carves you, and makes you eat whether you will or no. He asks you so often how you do? as he makes you doubt whether you be well or no; and when you are not indeed, he is more troublesome yet, with his how d'ye's? and pray be well, etc. He has a Receipt for every Disease, and twenty at least for an Ague, all one as good as another; and so pesters you with them, as you would give as much to be rid of his visits, as y'are forced to give the Physician for his. In fine, he is so troublesome, as y'are forced to put it in your Litanies, to be delivered from him, and all will scarcely do.   

Character 25. Of your Town-talkers. Made Anno 1654.  
YOur Town-talkers are a company in Town, who make a trade of talking of every thing; and they are such excellent Embroiderers of Lies, as any ground will serve their turn, (nay, most commonly they'll do't without any ground at all.) They deal more by Conjecture then Almanac-makers; and will venture the repute of Liars twenty times, for thât of Prophet once. They wish more for ill news, than Engrossers of Corn do for dear years; and are sorry with Caligula, when no public calamity happens in their times. They hunt with full cry, and run faster away with a Rumour, than a pack of Northern Hounds with a full scent; and their chiefest Game is who, and who! They make more Marriages than justices of Peace; and for Weddings, (now the Arches are down) they are the only Bawdy Court. Instead of the Star-chamber they censure every one, and judging of others by themselves; no wonder they judge ill of every thing. Their talking is their disease, and they speak ill, because they know not to speak well. 'Tis the malignity of their nature, and we must have patience with it, as thêy must; if making bold sometimes with us in the Country, we this once make as bold with them in Town.   

Character 27. Of a shrewd old Catholic Gentlewoman.  
SHe goes to Confession, and leaves off all her old shrewishness to begin anew; and when she has sufficiently thumbed over her Hours and Rosary, thinks she has privilege to be as shrewish as she was before. She chides others with the same zeal as she prays; and beats her Breasts at Mass, and Maids afterwards with the same fervour and devotion. She thinks spiritual Vices nothing, so long as she abstains from carnal ones; and whilst she makes a mortal sin of eating Flesh on Fridays, or Eggs in Lent, makes no scruple of rash judgement, and condemning others without a cause. Her Devotion in the Chapel chiefly consists in saying over a great many Prayers, and out of it, in making a Caudle for the Goodman, which he eats as devoutly, and prays for Benefactors. In fine, she's always chiding, and would have every one perfecter than herself; and looks so much to others faults, as sh'as no leisure to look unto her own; whence she turns away her Maids so fast, as she scarcely knows her own Family; and you shall come twice into the house, but never twice into the same house again.   

Character 28. Of a common Acquaintance.  
HE wearies 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 them whether they will or no. If they but look on him, he smiles on them; and but smile on him, and the Acquaintance strait is made. 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 your common Courtesans, or Will Summer had; and they are much as near a kin as Patch and he. Mean time, he glories in the store of them, and thinks himself rich, never considering, that one finds enough of such acquaintances every day in che streets, whilst procul & de ultimis sinibus terrae, a Friend is a Cabinet-piece indeed, and one we should go to the end of the world to seek: Betwixt whom and such common Acquaintance there is as much difference, as betwixt Diamonds and Pibble stones: and he ought to be ashamed, that every ordinary Carver should be more choice of the wood he makes his statuas of, than he of the men whereof he makes his friends; ône being too hard and knotty to work upon, t'other too light and spongy, and worth nothing when they are wrought. Non ex omni ligno sit Mercurio, one makes not Friends out of every sort of Wood   

Character 29. Of one who falsely styles himself Colonel  
NOt to be Soldier he was made Colonel at first, and to escape fight, has continued so ever since; whence he is a Superlative without a Positive; or like a Hovel, all Roof, without Foundation. He drunk formerly when he should be fight, and now talks only of fight in his drink, whence his Sword can so little boast of its Blood, as all its Gentility lies in the Hilt and Belt; and it derives its Honour more from the Scabbard than the Blade. To avoid fight, he brags how often he has fought, and how many he has killed▪ and some believe him, because they cu'd never see any he had fought withal alive: But others say, that of all men living they would choose to be killed by him, for so they should be sure to be still alive. Yet he'll quarrel, or wrangle with you, (which is half quarrelling at least) and let him alone, and he'll threaten to fight w'ye too; such as he being of the nature of Nettle●, handle them gently, and they prick you; but roughly, and you break the point● of them. After which (as before) he was the Fools Valiant man, so he becomes the Valiant man's Fool▪ and every one laughs at him, when he goes away offended, saying, He cares no more for others, than they for him: and if so, he is the happiest man alive; for I know none lives freer from care than he.   

Character 30. Of the Patron's Lives. To the Lord— Anno 1664.  

MY noble Lord, if you would know  
Both how to ●ive, and live well too,  
But only your A●●ention give,  
I●le tell you how ●he Patrons live.   

First of all, they never ●are  
Nor for Clock nor Calendar;  
Next they ne'er desire to know  
Ho● Affairs o'th' World do go:   

Above all, they ne'er resort  
To the busy Hall nor Court;  
Where poor men do nothing else,  
But trouble others and themselves:  
All the business they look after.  
Only is their sport and laughter,  
With a Friend and cheerful Cup  
Merrily to dine and sup●;  
Hear good Music, s●e a Play,  
Thus they pass the time away:  
Doing no harm to a●y man,  
Rather all the good they can.  
So 'twixt Saint a●d Sinner here.  
Equally their Course they steer,  
Till thi● Voyage overpast,  
They arrius to th' Po●t at last;  
Where those after Death arrive,  
Who so harmless were alive:  
And I ●hink, as th' world now goes.  
Th'a●e not worst of Livers those.   

If you like the Living thus,  
Come, my Lord, and Live with us.    

Character 31. Of a miserable old Gentlewoman.  
HEr word is, Pity any thing should be lost; but others say, Pity any thing should be saved as she saves it; for she hoards up Candles ends, and scrapes up Grease, being so rich in Kitchenstuff, as her very clothes are nothing else, excepting her old branched Velvet Gown, (as thin as a groat, with the figures all worn out) which she keeps only for Sundays and Holidays; never wondering that the Jews cu'd wear their Clothes forty years together in the Desert, since she has worn her Petticoat as long; and her Stomacher is a piece of venerable Antiquity, derived from the Velvet of Queen Mary's Gown. For her Prayer-book, it was a Relic of her Grandmothers, till first grown greasy, and after falling into the Dripping-pan, the Dog and Cat fell out about it, and eat it up, since when she prays without book, with a God help you when they ask her any thing, for which the Beggars curse her, but the Sneezers thank her, (as expecting nothing else of her.) You enter her house with no less honour, than you would one the Witches kept their Sabot in; for she fits like one in the Chimney-corner, purring like a melancholy Cat, and mumping like an old Ape. When she would show you good countenance, and when she'd Regal you indeed, she sends up for a Bottle of Sack, (as everlasting as the Widows Cruse of Oil) that has served this twelvemonth all strangers that come to house; with a Box of Marmalade so old and dry, as the Flies have quite given it over, in despair of extracting any more sweetness out of it: Which together with her other niggardliness and sordidness makes me forswear the house, with resolution never to come there again.   

Character 32. Of an Excellent Companion.  
HE is the life and spirit of the Company, and sparkling liquor, whilst others are but dregs and lees. He is never dry nor pumping, but always full and flowing; every thing affording him matter of merriment; and for a need he can extract it out of nothing too. He differs from the Buffoon, as an excellent Comedy does from the Farce; and is all wit, t'other only▪ foolery. He is neither scurrilous nor profane, but a good man as well as a good companion; and so far a good fellow, to take a cheerful cup or two, (for wine's a good whetter of a fine edged wit, so with too much they whet it not quite away) and though to men of business he seems to confer but little to the seriouser part of life; yet he whets the knife of the serious man, and makes them more apt for business afterwards, (as Music makes them apt for Devotion) and those who are displeased with his mirth, are just like Saul displeased with David's music, possessed with ●ome melancholy devil, or other, which only such as he can cast out; for which they send for him farther, than they did for Dr. Butler, and every one loves and cherishes him, he being the Darling of all the nobler sort, the Favourite of Kings, and Companion for any Prince.   

Character 33. Of one who Zany's the good Companion.  
HE is a Wit of an under Region, like jack Pudding, grossly imitating on the lower Rope what t'other does neatly on the higher, only for the laughter of the vulgar sort, whilst the better and wiser can scarcely smile at him. He is a Buffoon, not a Wit, and in a Tavern is only ●n hi● Element, (the Bedlam of Wits, where men are rather mad then merry, and where there's only noise instead of mirth▪) He has nothing but old ●tories to make you laugh, (long since laughed thred-●ate) or some stale Jest or other, (broken twenty times before) at which if you laugh not, you put him out of countenance, and mar the faces, which only were his own before. In fine, he is only a Wit at the second hand, or a frippery of it, just as Long Lane is, compared unto Cheapside, and rather a Channel of other Wits, than a Fountain of his own; his W●t being rather the hogsheads then his own heads; savouring more of Heidelberge then Helicon, and he rather a drunken than a good Companion.   

Character 34. Of one who imitates the good Companion another way. Made in the 1654.  
HE is one, who now the Stage is down, acts the Parasites part at Table, and since Tailor's death none can play Mosca so well as he. He is all for those who have best wine and fare, even to be of the same Religion with them too; and though he be specially devoted to the Patron, he praises the Cook, shakes the Butler by the hand, and is familiar with all the rest of the Servingmen; calling one Father, another Son, as they are of Age or Office in the House. His mimic Gesture, together with his Buffoon faces, is all his mirth, excepting an old story or two, which you grow weary of presently, and then he must change his bank, or change his style, and fall to plain flattery, (which is his chiefest ●alent) with which he infects Persons, and mars those who are taken with him; as Plutarch well observes those do, who fish with sophistical baits, which catch fish sooner, ('tis true saith he) but renders them nothing worth when they are caught.   

Character 35. Of a Grave Formal Sir.  
HE declaims when he speaks like a Grammar Schoolmaster, and keeps his gravity even in spitting, whilst it serves him for distinguishing his periods. He walks like a piece of Dutch Clockwork moved with wires, and looks like an Image carried in Procession. He thinks them all ignorant, who admire not all he says and does; and the Age declining towards Barbarism amain, that they do not imitate all his words and actions. He holds the only observation of him a sufficient breeding for young Gentlemen, far beyond the Court and Univ●rsi●y▪ and when they hav● but travelled over his good parts once, they need (not travel farther to Fra●●● nor I●aly. He inveighs against the vanity of the time with greater vanity▪ and shows when he has the commodity of another's purse, how vain he wo●d be, had he the commodity of his own. He complains of Fortune, that like water she bears up light things, and lets the more mighty sink, (meaning himself with all his gravity) and is malcontent, that he is not rewarded according to his deserts; when 〈…〉 deserts, he only deserves to be laughed at, and that is all. In fine, he's a Compound of a formal Pedant, an affected traveller, and Plautu● miles gloriosus altogether; though he thinks himself tans Marte quam Mercurio without compare, whilst I can find nothing to admire in him, but only that he can admire himself so much.   

Character 36. Of an all-admirable Person.  
ALL that is sweet and ravishing is in her looks, with a cheerfulness 'tis joy to behold, and a perpetual sunshine, without any clouds at all, joined with so much noble virtue, and attractive sweetness, as she draws youto a certain distance from her, and there suspends you betwixt Love & Reverence, none ever daring to approach her nigher, nor having power to go farther off: So as that Beauty which in 〈◊〉 days of Ethnicisine, had excited to Idolatry, now excites only to Devotion; sufficient to fill the place where she is with votive Tables, and to work miracles, whilst she's the greatest miracle herself; and so all surprising, as a Disease but half so taking as her eyes, would be Epidemical, and depopulate all the world. Then she's so courteous and obliging, as the sun and air are not more diffusively good than she; and her speech and behaviour so gentle and affable, as you may talk of Magic, but there's none charms but she. In a word, her Gentleness is so great, as 'tis enough to tame the fiercest Lions, and civilize the most barbarous Savages; and if there be any fierceness or savageness in the world, 'tis only where she is not, and because she can't be every where. In fine, her Beauty, Virtue, and Obligingness is so great, as Heaven seems to have made her as she is, only to make Beauty more virtuous, and Virtue more beautiful, by ●oyning them together with so much sweetness and gentleness.   

Character 37. Of a Suspicious Person.  
SHe torments herself and others, by putting every thing on the Rack of doubt, and wresting all unto suspicion; mean time she makes them rather confess what she'd have them, than what is true indeed. As all things seem yellow to those infected with the jaundice, so all things seem of the colour of her suspicions. She affixes an ill sense still unto your words, and an ill meaning to all your actions, and like French Post Horses, goes on with her suspicions, who when they stumble once, never leave till they be down. Like Snowballs; she revolves slight offences in her mind, till she as made mighty injuries of them at last, and her Surmizes are always wiser than the Truth, when both for her own sake and theirs, her friends could wish they were but as wise at least. She explicates others words and actions, as Heretics do Scripture, in the dark and mystic sense, when the literal is obvious and clear enough; and there's as little hopes of converting t'one as tother from their erroneous opinions. So whilst her mind is just like the Winter's Sun, that exhales more vapours than it can dissipate again; she both loses herself in the mists she makes, and loses her Friends, by mistaking them for her Enemies.   

Character 38. Of a Talkative Lady.  
THere is no coming into her company, under pain of a days Headache, and a ringing in the ears a fortnight after; and whosoever hears her, wishes that either she were dumb, or they were deaf. To hear her talk, you would wonder at her matter, and at her talk when you heard her matter; but considering both together, you would admire at neither, but only exclaim with him who plumed the Nightingale, Vox est, & praeterea nihil, she is a voice, and nothing else; for 'tis only a noise she makes, and the labour not of her Brain but Tongue, and you would wonder how that holds out so long, but for thât it moves with as great facility, as leaves shaken with the wind, (give it but breath enough, and it will ne'er lie still) or rather indeed as Atoms move ●'th ' Air; for it is quite unhung, and depends neither on nerve nor imagination. There being as much difference betwixt a voluble Tongue and hers, as betwixt an excellent Vaulter, who artfully moves himself, and one who precipitates himself without any art at all. All the wonder is, how she makes so different ends hold together, whilst ●he speaks only Thrums, (much like the composition of a Tailor's Cushion, all of shreads) but for that she cares not, all her care is for ●ome body to hear her talk, (which shortly she must be forced to hire, (fôr 'tis too great a pain to do gratis) mean time a Machine with so constant a motion as her Tongue, would be far better than a murmuring Fountain to make one sleep; and sh● wants only the faculty of talking in her sleep herself, to make the perpetual motion with her Clack.   

Character 39 Of a Taciturne Person.  
HE is the contrary extremity, and knows as little to speak, as t'other to hold his peace. Friar Bacon's Head was a talkative one to his, and there is nothing so dull and phlegmatic, as his discourse. You might have patience to tend a Still as well, that drops but once a quarter, and the counting a Dutch Clock and his words, were an Exercise much alike. The wheels of his Tongue like those of a rusty Jack, must be perpetually oiled, or else theyare at a stand; and he is just like Pharatius picture, all Curtain, and whosoever thinks there is aught under it, like Zeuxes are deceived. Yet such veiled Shrines as he, in Cloisters are counted very Oracles, where silence is in precept and veneration, and where their wisdom is the folly of the world; and be they their wise men, they shall be my Fools still, who admire none for being always silent, nor more admire their silence, then that of a Tree or Plant; who shall ne'er count Impotency perfection, but rather when the power of speaking never proceeds to act, shall suspect there's somewhat in it more than want of will. Only for this once, (since they will needs have it so) I will believe there is somewhat in him, 'cause I could never yet see any thing come out of him.   

Character 40. Of a Table-Disputant.  
Disputation's is only for the School, and who disputes too much out of it, should be sent to School again. Of all places, 'tis least proper for the Table, where their discourse should be like their Fare, easy and of light digestion, and not too hard nor difficult. Such love to hear themselves talk, and if they would hear more, and talk less, they would be wiser than they are. The contrary extremity to these are your too easy Assenters to all you say, who let discourse fall too soon, as t'other holds it up too long. The mean betwixt both, is to continue discourse with a handsome reparty or two, and never to pass beyond the third reply. Mean time, the wise avoid disputing with them, as they do quarrelling with Hector's, (there being no reputation to be got by either) and 'tis with disputing just as 'tis with quarrelling, where some are so foolish to draw quarrels upon themselves, others so wise to avoid them, which those best may do, without any loss of Reputation, who have sufficiently declared on other occasions, that 'tis rather discretion than weakness in them, and want of will then ability, that they avoid them now. For my part, of all Surfeits, I hold that of talking the worst, and conclude with Balzac, that whosoever thinks with a long-winded discourse, or raising his voice a tone or two higher than mine, to carry it, he shall have his opinion and mine too, rather than I'll contend with him.   

Character 41. Of a Flaunders Devote. Made at Antwerp.  
SHe is so pure and nice, as when she comes but where men are, she takes the wind of them, for fear of being got with Child, (as Spanish Gynnets' are) and brushes herself when she goes away again, for fear of a spice of fornication, ever since she understood that man is but made of dust. She wears her eyes like Spectacles on her nose, and looks as soberly and demurely as Cows in Bongraces. She dares not scratch, (though it itch never so furious) for fear of transgressing the Rules of Modesty; and a Fly is as safe on her Nose, or a Flea in her Bosom, as a Thief in Sanctuary. She defies the World with all its vanities, and for the Devil, knows all his tricks so well, as that Devil must rise betimes that cousins her. As for the Flesh, she not only mortifies it in herself, but in her Hodgepodge too, giving it such an allay of Carrots and Turnips, as there's no danger of its insurrection. 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 habitant. By the colour of her Petticoat you may easily perceive what Order she's addicted to; and as your Mermaids are half fish, half flesh, so she's Religious below the Girdle, and Secular above. 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 of Scruples; of which she makes more in a day, than her Confessors can undo in ten; for which, though I would not be hîm, yet I co●d wish my Soul with hers at any time, but only on Ladies Eves, and other particular days of Devotion, when she fasts and prays, and disciplines most intolerably.   

Character 42. Of a Green-Sickness Girl.  
SHe is like a Mouse in a Holland Cheese, her house and diet all the same; whence the more she spends in it, the worse house she keeps; the walls being her constant diet, of which she eats so long, till she fulfil the old Proverb at last, the weakest goes to the walls; for which should they accuse her of Burglary, she has this commodity that she could never be starved in prison: Nay, whilst some eat themselves into prison, she by the Ostriches help might eat herself out again. She is a great Benefactrix to Masons, who where they find her, are sure to find work enouf: And she has a great devotion to the Church walls too, where she might sooner eat 〈◊〉 the ten Commandments, by breaking her fast, then break the Commandments of the Church by eating. No Nunnery would hold her, but she●d break. Enclosure presently, though for the rest she'd pass them all for strictness of diet; and though she eat white meat, wo●d put down the ●innums and Carthusians. By her complexion 〈◊〉 seems rather made of Marble or C●alk, 〈◊〉 that red Earth Adam was made of▪ and though she be so Meager a Soil,▪ as she grows never the fatter by it, yet one knows not what a good Husbandman may do, which they say she wants extremely: But fe● would take a Wife with so much ●ll Housewifery, a● if she holds on as she begins, she would soon eat her Husband out of house and home; only a Mille● might venture on her with all faults, she being much of his Complexion; and for her Diet▪ the eating of Meal would be at others charges▪ and the walls of his Winde●ill are not comprised in her Bill of Fare.   

Character 43. Of Liberty.  

1▪  
F●ee as I was 〈◊〉 I●le li●●,  
So should every wi●e m●n do▪  
Only ●ools they 〈◊〉, who give  
〈◊〉 Freedom's 〈◊〉 I ●now not who.   

2.  
If my weakness cannot say it,  
B●t 'tmust ●o, (●ha● ere it cost)  
〈◊〉 mor● str●●●● the● I shall have it,  
Can make goo● what I have los●.   

3.  
S●ill foam Excellency should be  
More i'●h' Master then the Slave;  
Whi●h in uther's till I s●e,  
None ●y Liberty shall have.   

4.  
Nor iced Exc'llency enouf,  
Time or chance can mar or make▪  
But 'tmust be more lasting Stuff,  
Shall from me my freedom take.   

5.  
I for Fortune nothing ●are,  
Beauty's 〈◊〉 a glittering 〈◊〉,  
Wh● without so g●●rio●● are,  
●ave no more th●● I within.   

●.  
Those to who●● 〈…〉 away,  
That w●i●h non● 〈…〉,  
Shall ●e made of better Clay,  
●nd have 〈◊〉 Soul● th●n 〈◊〉    

Character 44. Of a very Widow.  
SHe shoots off Husbands as fast as Boys do Pellets out of Potguns, and one discharged, all her care is to charge again. She is as curious of her mourning dress, as if she rather courted a nêw Husband, than mourned for the ôld; and her Glass and woman have more ado with putting on her Veil and Peak▪ than formely (in the days of Revelling) with putting on her masking clothes. Before company she makes lamentable moan, and squeezes out a tear or two; but when she's 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, etc. She counts herself widowed, not for her bosom, but her bed, (wisely making difference betwixt a Husband and a Friend) and procures to have that warm still, when her Husband is scarcely cold; whom she so soon forgets, as she never makes mention of any former Husband, but only as a spur to the latter, with God be with him, he would have done thus and thus; and if he do not so too, is as ready to bid God be with him. In fine, she only marries for a good Dowry, and when she has that, she cares not how soon she is rid of you; so as were I to marry her, one of the Conditions of the Marriage should be, that she should be a Widow no more, or beshrew me I'd none of her.   

Character 45. Of a Mendicant Irish Priest. Made at Antwerp.  
HE goes over Seas in Trousers; and there turns Beggar before he turns Student; and learns the art of craving before any other Art: By which he brings all the Town where he lives into contribution for his maintenance, one giving him victuals, another clothes, even to the devout honest Cobbler, who gives him the mending of his Brougs or shooed. If they be many of them, they beg some old House or other, (which they call a College) and there live together like so many Beggars in a Barn▪ and to stir up the people's Charity and Compassion towards them, they tell them lamentable Stories of Ireland, and St. Patrick's Purgatory, (which they believe the sooner, because they look like so many poor souls come out of it themselves.) Having thus provided for his other necessities, he begs his Learning, and having got a few scraps of Latin together, is made Priest; when li●e a ragged Colt, he changes his Coat for a Cassock, so old and threadbare, as the ha●● neither lining nor outside, and you would doubt where ever 'twere new or no. Then by recommendation to some under Sacristan, he gets to say Dirges, by which and the Candles ends, he picks up a pretty Living, and is as sure as the Beggars of the Parish to be at every Dole and Funeral. After this, if he get a Chapel of some twenty Nobles a year, or to be under Pater to some Monastery of Nuns, he thinks himself a Bishop and very Patriarch; and if he chance to come to any higher promotion, he is so glorious, as all this is forgot, and in short time himself too.   

Character 46. Of an irresolute Person. Made Anno 1653.  
HE hovers in his choice just like an empty balance without any weight of judgement to incline him to either Scale. Every ●hing he thinks on, is matter of deliberation▪ an● he does nothing readily, but what he thinks not on; so as discourse, that helps others out of Labyrinths, is a Labyrinth to him; and he of all creatures living would be far wiser, if he had none at all. He begins nothing without consideration, and when he begins to consider once, never makes an end. He has some dull Daemon in him cries do not, do not still, when he is going to do anything, which he obeys as a divine Revelation; and he plays at shall I, shall I so long, till opportunity of doing it be past; and then (as he committed the faul●) he reputes at leisure. He still mislikes the present choice of things, as Scoggin did the Tree he was to be hanged on, and is enemy to resolution; or rather, as resolution were enemy to him, he is afeard of it, as often as he comes ●nto it. He could never bet at Cocking no● Horse Race yet, because the Battle or Race was always done before he cu'd resolve which side to take; and he is only happy in this, that his irresolution hitherto has hindered him from marrying and entering into bonds. And 'tis not the least part of his happiness, to be so long in choosing his Religion, (if he be yet to choose) amongst so many Sects as we have now adays, though 'tis supposed he is a Quaker, by his wavering disposition; and if he ●e, the next news you hear from him will be from B●dlam.   

Character 47. Of a changeable Disposition.  
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 they are always beginning, and she never makes an end; and she writes and blots out again, whilst he's deliberating what to write. One being endless à parte ante, t'other à parte post; one being a resty, t'other a restless pain. So you can tell what to make of t'one'sones Negative and how two Negatives make an Affirmative; but of her yea and nay together you know not what to make, but only that she knows not what to make of it herself. Her thoughts and imaginations differ from others, as Grotesque figures do from natural; and from Grotesque, in that these have some design in them, but thêy have none; for she'll call in all haste for one, and have nothing to say to them when they come; and long and die for somewhat, which when she has, she instantly throws away, never looking towards the end, but only the beginning of things, nor standing still in her choice, but whirling perpetually about; so as those who are of one mind to day, and another to morrow, are constant, compared 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 them.   

Character 48. Of a petty Politic.  
IF you would deceive him, tell him Truth, and believe what he says, if you would deceive yourself. He goes ever vizzarded, and you can never know his true face, but may always know 'tis false. He cares 〈◊〉 in whose light▪ he stands, so he may see, nor whose Edifice he ruins, so he may build his own▪ so as they look on him not as a Man, but as some ravenous beast, homo homini Lup●●, that does all the harm and mischief he can to others; by which he has got so ill a name▪ as he is half hanged already, and no body (that knows him) but wishes him wholly sô: and this fine Reputation he has got by his petty Pol●●y, that is nothing else but Wisdom distempered into Craft, far worse than Lying, ●or that makes only the Tongue false, but thîs the Heart too; and has a far worse effect, for that makes them not believe his words, but thîs, that they will not believe his deeds; so as should they see him do the best action in the world, they would imagine he did it with some ill intent, and out of petty Policy, which is nothing else but Treachery in Fight, Perfidiousness in Friendship, Cozenage in Gaming, and Deceit in Bargaining; and whosoever uses it, in plain English is a Knave, though the qualifying Term be a Politician.   

Character 49. Of a good honest Catholic  
HE is that ve●us Israelita, or true Israelite, in whom there is no deceit; and you may as safely take his word, as another's bond or oath; he had rather suffer than do wrong at any time; and is so scrupulous, as he may oft deceive himself, but never you. He does as he says, and says as he thinks, and means well and honestly in every thing; and to see his Innocency and honest simplicity, you'd think the Golden Age were returned again. He counts Conversation betwixt man and man, his second Religion▪ and for his first, betwixt God and himself, you'd take him for one of the Primitive Christians; and the Primitive Church were again revived in him, where the name of Dishonesty was wholly unheard of amongst them; and the thing itself amongst the Ideas of things unknown▪ a Vertuè as rare as the Phoenix now adays; when amongst such variety of Sects, there are far more Saints than honest men; when amongst the boast of Christian Virtues, they have forgotten all Moral ones; and when for pure scarcity of Honesty, he's counted an honest man, who is not altogether a Knave.   

Character 50. Of a degenerate Nobleman. Made Anno 1652.  
HE is a certain silly thing, who now he has no voice in Parliament, scarcely knows what to say. He has made the name of Lord only a mock-name, more ridiculous than the name of Lord of misrule in ancient times; and they shun him, as they do Lord have mercy upon us, upon doors: and this plague he has brought upon himself, by foolishly imagining he should be any thing, when those 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 no wonder if every Glow-worm or farthing Candle outshines them now; or that their greatness should be at so low an ebb, as every one boldly strides over them, who durst not approach so nigh as their brinks before. So they justle him now in the streets, who was wont before like Mandarins, to make whole streets to give him way▪ and no body takes notice of him, unless some one in scorn points at him (perhaps) and says, there goes a Lord▪ and this is all the privilege of Peerage they have now; besides the having every base fellow without Commission to search their house, every Tradesman cite them before their Worships at next Shire-Towns, and every common Sergeant drag them away to Prison, where ●hey lie in the Dungeon or Common Goal: And this fine Prerogative they have got, who would needs pluck down the King, only to be promoted to the King's Bench themselves.   

Character 51. Of one that is truly Noble. Made at Antwerp, Anno 1651.  
HE is a Nobleman indeed, t'other only in name and title; and his Titles become him, and seem only made for him, whilst t'other appears in them like Dwarf● in G●an●● Clothing. He blazons his Arms by V●rtues, not by Colours; and his Pedigree▪ which is boast with t'other, is only chronicle to him▪ He does praise worthy things himself, well knowing the p●aise of his Ancestors are none of his; and suffers them to get the start of him in nothing but priority of Time. Mean while he holds Courtesy so man● a part of Nobility, as he imagines That Nobleman does ●ut disguise himself, and puts on Peasant's Clothing, who is discourteous. Above all, he holds Loyalty so essential to Nobility, as he imagines he who is Disloyal once, not only degrades himself, but all his Posterity of their Nobility. Of his Liberality. I say nothing, but only imagine how liberal he would be i● he had it nôw, when no worthy person could want it whilst he had any thing. To conclude, his mind is erect, what ever his Fortunes be; and the Poverty of the time can no ways deject him, who like an ancient Ruin, stands great whilst he stands, and would fall great, however low he fell.   

Character 52. Of an uncertain Nature.  
SHe is the Anomula of her Sex, not to be comprised in any general rule, nor can any particular one be given of her. She is a Sea without a Northstar, and so full of shifting sands, as there is no sailing by Compass with ●er, nor venturing without the Plummet st●●l in hand; and you may spell Hebre● backward and decipher th● hardest Characters, b●t there is no spelling nor deciphering h●r. One benefit she has by it, that Flattery can nev●● finde her out▪ for now she likes a thing, and presently dislikes i●; now she's of one opinion, and presently of another; so as you may go twice into her company, and not twice into the same company; and when she is in good or bad humour, you must go to a Cunning woman to know, for she's not cunning woman enouf to know herself. In fine, she is a very Chameleon or Proteus in disposition, changing fashions of mind ofner than the French does fashions o'th' body; and did she change but shapes as often, there's none would know her: and the reason of all is (perhaps) because she does not know herself.   

Character 53. Of a Dull Country Gentleman.  
HE comes up to Town to get a Wife, and when he is there he knows not what to ●ay, for he is the Mute of the Company where he comes, and only plays a part in the Dumb Show. Or if he say any thing, he labours for it like a Pump, 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 stairs on you just like one newly wake● out of sleep. He looks with his mouth, and thinks you would sell him a Bargain when you ask him any thing, (and 'tis impossible to ask him any thing he understands) yet when he is alone, he and his man john have many a dry Discourse about Wiving; and his man give● him as many cautions about good Husbandry, which he is apt to follow, being so miserable, as he grudges at Coach-hire, trembles at the name of Hide Park, Mulberry Garden, and the New Exchange; and never bestows any thing on his Mistress above a Bottle of Ale, or pound of Cherries when they are at cheapest: So that unless he be rich, it may be long enough before he get a Wife; and if he bê, a hundred to one but some Wife or other gets him, and afterwards make an Ass, if not an Ox of him.   

Character 54. Of a Schoolboy.  
HIs Parents may well say of him, as another did of their Son, that they had prayed sor a Boy so long, as they feared he woul● prove one all his life; to which much confers their Breeding in Grammer-Schools, where they learn nothing but lying and loitering, and converse so much with Boys, as they are quite marred for ever becoming Men. He has nothing so ready as his Hat at his finger's ends, which he twirls about in mighty agony, when he is out of his Lesson, and knows not what to say; and ask him any question, and he looks about, as if he were seeking for an answer; and when he answers you, scrapes such another leg, as jack of the Clockhouse, when he goes about to strike. He speaks in the tone he repeats his Lesson in, so fast as if his tongue were running away with it; and so loud, as if all the company were deaf; and out of his Lesson knows not what to say. Of his Manners I say nothing, for he has none at all; nor is there any hope he will ever learn; whose Head is so doazed with knocking, and Breech hardened with whipping, as he has neither fear nor wit. So as had I a Son whom I loved indeed, I'd rather send him to Paris-garden, to learn such tricks as the Ape does there, rather than such tricks as they learn at School.  
I mean not by thîs now your public Grammar Schools, those Fountains of Learning, whose clear Streams flow into the Universities, but those dirty Puddles, where Children are rather defiled then imbued with Learning; whilst they learn nothing but to read Scripture, and then misinterpret it; from which foul sink so many fanatics, like so many Tadpoles: have entered into the world.   

Character 55. Of your Fanatic Reformers.  
THey complain of the old Reformation, that they plucked not down Churches and Cathedrals, as well as Abbeys, and think they were not zealous enough, to leave so many Cross-styles to stumble the Brethren, and cross-ways, to make them err and stray from Righteousness; and for the Signs in the City, cry out against them, as the abomination of abominations, to see so many Popes-heads, so many Triple-Crowns, Bishops Mitres, and Cardinal's Caps, with Friars and Nuns, Beads, Agnus Dei's, and the like, which makes London look like a very Babylon: Whereas had they their will▪ a Bird should not fly in the air with its wings across, a Ship with its Cross-yard sail upon the Sea, nor profane Tailor sit crosslegged on his Shopboard, or have Cross-bottom to wind his thread upon. As for the Signs, they have pretty well begun their Reformation already, changing the Sign of the Salutation of the Angel and our Lady, into the Soldier and Citizen, and the Katherine Wheel into the Cat and Wheel; so as there only wants their making the Dragon to kill St. George, and the Devil to tweak St. Dunstan by the Nose, to make the Reformation complete. Such ridiculous work they make of their Reformation, and so zealous they are against all Mirth and jollity▪ as they would pluck down the Sign of the Cat and Fiddle too, if it durst but play so loud as they might hear it.   

Character 56. Of a French Dancing-Master in London.  
A French Dancing-master or Baladin, thinks himself a very Paladin of France, when h'a● left off being Usher, and is a Master once. He has the Regimin of the Lady's Legs, and is the sole Pedagogue of their Feet, teaching them the French Language, as well as the French Pace, as Coupez, Passez, Levez &c., (which they understand as perfectly as English) he fetches them up in their Courant with a hei Courage! as a Carter does his Horses with a Whip; and makes as many antic Gestures the while, as a Bowler does when his Bowl's a trundling. He makes a Pilgrimage every year to Paris to learn new Dances, and distributes at his return his Branles, Gavottes and Sarabands amongst his Scholars, as Pilgrims do the Relics of the Shrine where they have been; speaking as reverently of Monsieur Provost the while, as thêy do of the Saint whose Shrine they have visited. There was a long contention betwixt the French Tailor and him, in point of Gentility, till by Montague's means the French Dancing-master carried it. In fine, he lives a merry life and a long; for his Dancing-days are never done, whilst he makes all dance after his Fiddle, and he is a brave Fellow all the year; but on a Ball or Grand Ballet night without compare.   

Character 57 Of a School of young Gentlewomen.  
TO show how far they are removed from Court-breeding, their Schools most commonly are erected in some Country Village nigh the Town, where to save charges, they have the worst Masters as can be got for Love or money, learning to quaver instead of singing, hop instead of dancing, and rumble the Virginals, scratch the Lute, and rake the Guitar, instead of playing neatly and handsomely. As for their Languages, a Madge pie in a Month would learn to chatter more than they do in a year. And for their Behaviour, it is nothing else but a low Courtzie, with a bridling cast of their Chin to fetch it up again. And lastly, for their Work, (in which they chiefly glory) there are frequent Examplars of it, how some one or other makes such work with them, as the stitches of it can never be picked out again without the Midwives help. Mean time I will not say their reverend Mistress is a Bawd, (who thinks herself another Deborah for Government) but certainly she is little less, to give admittance to such Vermin into their Burroughs, (under the name of Cousins) who when their heads are in once, all their body naturally follows; no Sweetmeat nor Comfit-maker's Shop being more haunted in hot weather with Wasps and Flies, than these Schools be, with all the wild Gallants about the Town.   

Character 58. Of a Lady of excellent Conversation.  
YOu would imagine all the Muses and Graces were in her when she speaks; Her Conversation both for words, matter, and manner of delivery, is so charming, pleasant, and delightful, even to the tone and accent of her voice, which is so sweet and harmonious, as 'tis more Music to hear her speak, than others sing. Discourse, which is a Tyranny with others, is a Commonwealth with her, (where every one's opinions are free) and she is so easy company, as 'tis pleasure to be in it, whilst (like uneasy Garments) you are not in others without pain. She never contradicts any, but only blushes when they speak impertinently, (a greater reprehension (to those who understand blushes) then can be expressed in words) and has too much Reason to use Passion, (the Arms of falsehood) to defend the Truth▪ But having delivered her opinion, if yôu yield not, shê does, rather than contend with you, and leaves you the shame of the Victory, when with more honour you might have been overcome. She does not rashly take up argument, nor abruptly lay it down again, but handsomely assumes it, delightful continues it, and like an Air in Music, just comes unto the close, when the ear expects it. In fine, her Conversation is ●ar more cheerful than theirs, who laugh more, and smile less; true joy being a cheerful thing, and as far different from light and giggling mirth, as Elemental fire from Squibs and Cracker; so as Promethian-like, she inspires all who converse with her with noble flame and spirit; it being Virtue to know her, Wisdom to converse with her, refinest Breeding to observe her, and a Species of the joy and happiness of t'other life, to enjoy the happiness of her Conversation in this.   

Character 59 Of a young Enamourist  
HAving left the School, and Schoolboys Toys, next Toy he gets is a Mistress, whom he courts with legs and faces, out of Ovid, or some of your modern Poets▪ and he talks of Phoebus and Cupid, and of so many Gods and Goddesses, as you'd take him for some Pagan never converted to Christianity. He sighs like a dry Pump, or broken wound Bellows; and to hear him, you●d never wonder at Lapland Witches selling wind so cheap. There is nothing so cold, as to hear him talk of Flames▪ nor so dull, as to hear him talk of Cupid's darts; and you'd forswear Love, to hear but how he makes it. Mean time, his Mistress lets him know, that 'tis in Love as 'tis in War, which declared once, y'are to expect nothing but Hostility; and knows 'tis with Lovers, as 'tis with Anglers, who feed fishes till they are caught; but caught once, feed on them; so 'tis long ere she by't at the bait, unless he be rich, and then she nibbles a little to draw him on, else she jeers him to death, as they Rhyme Rats in Ireland, and he dies a Quaker in Love at last, (of all Sects the most ridiculous) the subject of some lamentable Ballad, that tells you how he is gone to the Elysian Fields, when'tis only by Moor Fields, (perhaps) where they are buried amongst the mad men and Quakers, and there's an end of them.   

Character 60. Of a Precieuse; or, Artificial Beauty.  
SHe uses ●he Trewel instead of the Pencil, and paints so palpably, as if she sought not colour to hide it, but rather to publish it. She is as dextrous at the Fan, as a Butcher at the Fly-flap, and has as much need to keep the flies from her face, as he from his meat. She goes a sowling for Gallant's, and now makes Springs for them of her hair, now Pitfalls of her breasts, and now Lime-twigs of her looks; and more glories in the multiplicity of them, than a Lawyer of his Clients, or Physician of his Patients. Mean time, who treat her, may entreat any thing of her; and he who has the Coach, may carry her any where: she thinking the point of honour to consist more in Reputation of Beauty, than Fame; and of being fair, then good. So passes she the Springtide, and Summer of her Bea●ty, merrily, till growing towards Autumn with her, more Arts are necessary to repair the defects of Beauty, and decays of Age; no old Cottage ever needing more reparations than she, nor more Arts to maintain it: She now complaining sh'as got a Cold, or sleeps not well a nights, that her ill looks may be imputed unto that accident; now seeking dark corners to show her warped Complexion in, as cozening Citizens do to show their counterfeited▪ Ware▪ until at last, when none of these miserable shifts will serve, she pretends to Wisdom when her Folly will hold out no longer; and courts the reputation of Good, when she can have no longer thât of Fair.   

Character 61. Of a Natural Beauty. Made at Cobham, Anno 1655.  
WHether a cheerful Air does rise,  
And elevate her fairer Eyes;  
Or else a pensive Heaviness  
Her lovely Eyelids does depress,  
Ever the same becoming Grace  
Accompanies her Eyes and Face:  
Ever 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 Car●,  
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.   

Character 62. Of a Novice of the— 's Order.  
HE is a young Lover, and his Order is his Mistress, that to try his constancy, makes a fool of him; the more dozed and bemoapt he is, the better still, 'tis a sign he is right, and has a true vocation; and if he have any wit or judgement of his own, they cry out on him for a very Reprobate. He hates all womenkind, and calls a Petticoat Leviathan, and a Smock (but innocently blanching on a hedge) Asteroth, or the foul Devil of Fornication. He walks with his Eyes as fixed in his head, as a dead Hares in a Poulterer's shop, and crumples up himself like a Hog-louse, for fear of ●ffusion. He makes as many stops as he goes, as an old rusty Jack, and winds up himself as often to rectify his intention. He says his Our Fathers as devoutly as others their Our Father; and counts the Patron of his Order the greatest Saint in Heaven. He is no more moved than a Statue at a chiding or reprehension, and is as pert and brisk after a good Discipline, as an Ape after a whipping. He breaks Glasses, and thinks to make all whole again, with a Deo gratias, which is the word when he does any thing (as he does every thing) untowardly. In fine, his Novitiat passes just like an enchantment with him, and he's in Ecstasy all the while, till towards the end he recovers by degrees, and the Charm expired, he becomes like other men.   

Character 63. Of a wicked debauched Person.  
HIs mind is a Room all hung with A●etins Pictures, and he is practising a pace to design after them, and de facto has copied out most of them already. He is not capable how any one can be chaste, and when he cannot sin in act, he does it in imagination: Every thing with him is incensive unto Lust, and show him but so much Smock as would scarce make Tinder, and he is all afire with it presently. His words are able to defile the ears, and corrupt the manners of any one that hears him; and there is no such dirty Habitation, nor unwholesome air, then that wherein he breathes. He is so little ashamed of his Vices, as he glories in them, and should be sorry an● ashamed that any one should be more vicious than he. He knows no crying sins but his own Bastards, nor cries for any himself, but thos● which send him to the Surgeons every Spring and Fall, (when his sweats are more for his own than Adam's sins) and if he lose a Nose (or so) in the service, he as much glories in it, as a Soldier in wounds he has received in the Wars; and shows that one may be as impudent in being noseless as frontless at any time. To give you his Character in brief, he laughs at Conscience and Religion, his God is his lust, and he believes there is no Devil but only a handsome Wench: He thinks Hell only a good Winter Parlour, Heaven only a pleasant Summer Seat; and for the narrow way thither, knows no other, but only the Highway to Maidenhead.   

Character 64. Of an English Papist Ass.  
KIng james (of happy memory) was wont to say, that the Papist was his honest Ass, he might lay what load he would upon him, and he would bear it patiently; but the Presbyterea● was such a skittish jade, as he kicked and winced at the least load laid on him. Certainly if Persecution be not the nighest way to Heaven, he goes the farthest way about; for every one persecutes him, and he bears the burden of every one: Nor will they allow him the privilege of Balaams' Ass, to speak when he is beaten, but like Horace's, he must only be patient, and shak● his ears. Mean time, he bears the faults of every one; and as 
* The Assembly man, pag. 18.  one said wittily, They rail at Popery, when the Land is almost lost in Presbytery; and cry out Fire, fire, in Noah's Flood. And though the wiser sort perceive their cunning in't, to find fault first, when they are faulty themselves, yet the ignoront are cheated with it, who still think those most faulty, who are most cried out upon, and take the poor Ass for some terrible monster of the Sea of Rome, (as the Major of Huntingdon did a Colt for a Sturgeon) whilst others know, he is a good honest Ass, who never failed his Master in time of need, as most of those who rail on him have done. In fine, all I will say of him is this, he is a scrupulous Ass, he is a patient Ass, and your French Ass would never bear half so much, not of the Pop● himself.   

Character 65. 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 Laws beget Abuses, and Lawyers Processes, so Physicians do Sicknesses and Maladies. Certain 'tis, he and Death are but Cousin Germans once removed, and both of the same Trade and Occupation of kill men, however (by corruption of the Judge) the Physician 'scapes, and Death is condemned for it. Another reason why Physician never yet held up his hand at the Bar for kill Patient, is because the Crowner's Quest find it self-murder in those who take Physic of them. They do more harm then good in the world (certainly) for all his saying, that did not Physicians kill men so fast as they do, the world would be too full of them; and who say 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. And for my part, as 'tis said, Necessity has no Law, so I could wish it had no Physicians too, for so we should have no Diseases, or at least be rid of thêm, the greatest Disease of all.  
But all this now is to be understood not of our English, but the Physicians here, who with their six penny ' Fees have Skill accordingly; whilst ours with their Golden Fees have Golden Skill, and therefore we honour them: whilst here your poor▪ Signieur Doctore, is always beaten, and made the ridiculous subject of every Farce.   

Character 66. Of an English Merchant, resident in Foreign Parts. Made Anno 1648. during his Travels in the Levant.  
HE is one who goes abroad with a stock of Honour as well as Money to traffic with, and makes a brave return of either. He is a Master and not a Slave to Wealth, and such a Master, as puts it only to noblest uses, (neither sticking at trivial expense nor gain.) He anticipates not poverty, for fear of being poor, (like those who kill themselves for fear of death) nor accelerates it with vain glory of appearing rich, (like those who gild over ruinous Palaces) but whilst he neither starves the Channel with penuriousness, nor exhausts the Spring with prodigality, has the art to keep the Stream still running, and the Fount still full; so as look in his Warehouse, and you find him a wealthy Merchant, in all the rest of his House a noble Gentleman, and he only follows his profit on writing days, and on all other days his pleasure, etc. So as we may truly say in these dead times, there are none live but he; who whilst your landed men are outed of all they have, as long as the Sea is open, is sure of his coming in. To conclude he is the Honour of his Nation abroad; and his Nation should be most ungrateful, should it not always honour him.  
But now you must understand, I speak of such an one, as either live● where they pretend to the Universal Monarchy at thîs' day, or else where they had it in former times; and not of those penurious ones, who live in your colder Climates nigher home, betwixt whom and him there is as much difference, as betwixt them and your Scotch Pedlars.   

Character 67. Of a timorous Disposition. Made Anno 1657.  
HE is only for facile and easy things▪ and if you employ him not in what he is good for, he is good for nothing. He is a● unfit for dangerous Negotiations, as a London Wher●y for an East India Voyage, and dares not offend the present Authority for his life. He is not Cavalier enough, to understand your Gallantry of dying; nor Divine, nor Philosopher enough, to know what good he can do wh●n he is dead. Like the slavish Americans, he offers as much Incense to those who may harm him, as those who can do him good. Mean time, sacrificing more out of Fear then Love, he is but half an Idolater at least. Whence in times of Trouble and Persecution, he pretends not so much to Merit as Excuse; and though he be far from a Rubric Saint himself, yet at least he honours those who are; and hopes to be saved by others merits, though not his own, amongst the common sort of Christians; who when any storms of persecution rise, will be sure, which way soever the wind does blow, to keep on the windy side of danger still.   

Character 68 Of a petty French L●tenist in England. Made Anno 1653.  
HE is a Fellow, who with ill clothes, and worse mien comes over into England, and there sets up a Court of Judicature, arraigning our Music, Instruments, and Musicians here, for not being a la mode de France; and almost the Hands too, for not being mangy about the Wrists like his. Especially, he cannot away with the double Neck, and twelve ranks of strings upon the Lute, (though far more easy and commodious) because it is not of their Invention. If his fingers be so weak, they can scarce crawl over a Lute, then to play gently and softly is the mode, & doucement is the word; and if they be so gouty and chillblained, as they rake the strings worse than if they were grated on with a ragged staff, then strong and lusty is the mode, and fort and gallyard is the word again. If you like not his play, he tells you he has at least the new method of Paris, and that he teaches a ravir & ●on pareille; and for his Pieces, (though rak't out of Gualtiers Dunghill, or collected from the Privy-house of Desaut) he keeps them as precious Relics, and gives out such for new, as were made before the Avignon, or the Pope's coming there. In fine, he is the Mountebank of himself, and though he has nothing to commend him besides himself, and the being French, (for which reason you may commend the Pox as we●l) yet your English are so foolish to admire him; nor will it ever be otherwise, till some such zealous Patriot rise up against them, as he, who hearing them talk of the F●e●ch Pox▪ bid them call it the English, with a Pox to them, for we had as good as the French ha● any.   

Character 69. Of an English Inn. Made Anno 1654.  
AN English Inn is a House of so ancient standing, as 'tis ready to fall down again; only its Sign-poast is new, and in that consists its greatest Gallantry. Within 'tis a great Machine of four wheels, Ostler, Cook, Tapster, and Chamberlain, with mine Host and Hoastis, the main Springs that move all the rest. Being entered, they all fall to cozening you in their several Vocations; the Ostler your Horses, the rest you; the Cook with meat so tough and raw roasted as spite of your teeth y'are forced to leave it to the house, the Tapster in so miscounting his stone juggs, as you may as well count the Stoneage as them; then the Chamberlain uses such cozenage with his Faggots, as the fire itself can scarcely bring to light. For your Chamber, it seems the Press-yard by the pillars of the bed, with a Teastern so heavy, as if it fall on you, Lord have mercy upon you, and for more exquisite torment and lingering pain; you have a heavy Tapestry for Coverlet, in Summer kills you with heat, and in Winter with cold as well as weight; with a Featherbed, whose feathers (as if you flounced into the water) part on either side, and leave you in the midst to sink unto the bottom. For mine Host and Hoas●is, who were wont to be good fellows in the days of jollity, their humours are spoilt in this time of godliness an● stummed Sack and Religion has quite marid their mirth; only mine Host will make a shift still to b● half drunk every day, and on Market days outright, when he is wondrous kind: and his kindness chiefly consists in a pin● of Sack to the Master, and a double jug unto the Servingman, always in order to the Reckoning, which as a Warning-piece being discharged once, there follows a whole volley of Welcomes, like small shot discharged on every side, and you are discharged too.   

Character 70. Of a Chimerical Poet. Made in afric.  
WIth his monstrous Similes and Hyperboles he is like a Painter, who makes only Chimeras and Grotesque work, whilst others Figures are natural, and to the life; by seeking out new ways, he mistakes the way to Helicon, and loses himself by going out of the common Road. He is like Statius on his great Horse, now on the top, now on the bottom of Parnassus, and has not art enough to keep him to a constant pace. His Conceits come across from him, and stick by the way; and his many Parenthesis' are but like the boggling of resty Jades, when they can't or won't advance. His Muse is none of the Nine, but a Mongrel or By-blow of Parnassus; and her Beauty, is rather Sophistical then natural. He offers at Learning and Philosophy, as Pullen and Stubble-geeses offer to fly, and presently come fluttering down again. His high-sounding Words and Verses are but like empty Tunns or Hogsheads, which make the greater sound the emptier they are. A long while some admi●'d him, because they understood him not, and for the same reason he admired himself: But now they have ' found out the Cheat, 'tis thought Ica●us fate will be his, who for flying too high, came to be drowned at last▪ and he had sunk long since, had not some like bladders beloved him up; which support now failing him, he will sink faster than heavy bodies fall unto the Centre.   

Character 71. Of a too ordinary Courtier. Made at Lisbon in Portugal.  
BEsides his own, he has the jester's Office too, and by ●t a double privilege, to say what he list, and not to be whipped for't when h'as done. He is a perpetual Libel; in the Court, of others; and to others, of the Court: and they repeat but his bold speeches, when they would speak ill of it. His railing differs as much from Raillery, as Butchers playing at Cudgels does from gentlemen's playing at Foils; and he's worse than Aretin, who demanded why he spoke not ill of God, (since he spoke ill of every one) answered, Porche no I' cognosco, because I know him not, (for he speaks ill as well of those he knows not, as those he knows) and if Bashfulness and Modesty be a Virtue in the Country, but a Vice in Court, 'tis the only Vice he is free from; for he is never from about the Prince, nor ever without some suit to beg of him▪ so as a fawning Spaniel with this Motto, Quid me ●ultis dare? or what will you give me, would be the right Emblem of him. Though he g●t● more than h● deserves, yet he is always complaining, and thinks he gets not so much as he deserves; when had he his deserts, he should be banished the Court, since if it be a Heaven or Firmament where the Prince is the Sun, and other Courtiers bright Stars of several Magnitudes, he is a dark Cloud that obscures all the rest, and the Court would shine far brighter, were he away.   

Character 72. Of one who troubles herself with everything.  
HEr mind is just like their Stomaches, who convert, all the nourishment they take, unto Disease's,; for every thing is matter of trouble with her, and not contented with her own, she troubles herself with those of others too, and will go a thousand miles out of her way to seek it, if she find none nigher hand. She is perpetually haunted with a panic fear of, Oh what will become of us! etc. and the stories of Apparitions in the Air, and Prognostics of extraordinary accidents to happen in the year 66. (when perhaps 'tis nothing but the extraordinary jingle of numbers) makes her almost out of her wits again. She troubles herself besides with conditionary thoughts of things that ne'er were, nor are, nor are like to be▪ and for her own business, she makes such work of it, as what betwixt doing and undoing it, like Penelope's web, she never makes an end, (nor can any else for her at last, she so entangles it) and all this only for want of knowing how much care and thought she is to bestow on things. Whence bestowing all she has on every thing, as long as there's a world, or she is in the world, her care must needs be infinite and immense. To conclude, her mind seems nothing else but an Hospital of sick and diseased thoughts; so thronged and pestered with 'em, as there's no room for any healthy ones. Whence her preposterous lodging, all her care and solicitude 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 has most need of it.   

Character 73. Of one who troubles himself with nothing.  
HE thanks God for giving him such a mind, as he neither cares for what he cannot have, nor scarce for any thing others can deprive him of. He places all his contentment within himself, and suffers nothing without to trouble him. He counts it folly to grieve and sorrow for any thing but our sins, since grief and sorrow can remedy nothing else. He loves easy Company as he does easy Garments, and throws off either when they pain and trouble him. He so loves his Liberty, as he won't be Slave to any, much less to his own Passions, (to have his mind free at least, and not still carry his master along with him.) Even in Friendship he takes the more delightful part, and leaves the more troublesome of Adieus and condoling, and the like, and so hates to be in debt, as he loves not to be too much obliged by any one. He avoids all high ways of the vulgar, and byways in Religion, not to err in Faith nor Opinion; and strives so to live in this life, as he may have no fear of the other when he comes to die. To enjoy its pleasures more purely, he willingly relinquishes all the honours and profit of this world; living neither in the higher Region of the Air, where storms and tempests are engendered; nor in the lower, where they are most subject to them; but in the middle, where all is quiet and tranquil. So lives he in this world, as if he were out of it, enjoying all its innocent pleasures, and for the rest—  
They have most pleasure who enjoy them least.   

Character 74. Of a jovial Old Nobleman.  
UNder whatsoever Constellation he was born, he is all jovial, when others are Saturnine; and no man was ever more beholding than he to Nature, who even in old Age has given him the spirit and vigour of Youth; and is so feared he should be ever wholly old, as she gives him a youthful mind in an aged body still. He is the Scharamacchio of Court and State, and is a Statesman and Courtier travesty, doing more business with trifling, than others with their seriousness; and his Grimaces are more worth than all their Gravity; for whilst they by laying open siege, but alarm men, and put them on their defence, he by intelligence with the humours of every one, suddenly enters their bosoms, and takes them by surprise. He knows sô, how to multiply himself, as he is all to all, and all to every one; especially amongst the Ladies he has Kindred and Affinity with every one; and he'll call an old Lady of four-score, Wife or Daughter; and a young one of fourteen, Mother or Grandmother, (only to be more merry and facetious) He comes in singing, & goes out dancing still; so as 'tis impossible to be melancholy where he is; and even Heraclitus in his company cu'd not without laughter pass o'er this vale of tears. In fine, he is the Democratis of the Age, and whilst others act Tragedies or Trage-Comedies on the Theatre of the world, he only acts Farses and Comedies whilst he lives; and when he dies, they should only write benè per acta fabula, he played his part well, on his Tomb for Epitaph.   

Character 75. Of an old Lady, who looked ill upon him, Under the name of Misa. Made Anno 1653.  

NOw what a Devil, Misa, makes  
Thee with such Eyes behold me still?  
'Cause from thee Time thy good looks takes,  
Must I needs therefore have thy ill?   

I prithee Misa don'● behold  
Me thus, as if I were thy foe,  
For howsoever thou art old,  
I am not Time that made thee so.   

And rather than to quarrel with me,  
As if 'twere I had done thee wrong,  
Go quarre● with thy Age I prithee,  
Whose fault 'tis thou hast lived so long.   

Howe'er for me thou well mayest spare  
Thy Anger, and thy Frowns may ●●ase;  
Who for thy good looks little care,  
Does for thy bad ones care much less.    

Character 76. Another on the same.  

LEt Autumn paint her withered leaves,  
And Winter die his snowy Hair;  
Yet he's a Fool that not perceives,  
That both but counterfeited are.   

So whilst you'll needs look young again,  
And still seem fair unto our sight;  
Misa, your labour's all in vain,  
Like his, would wash ●he Ethiope white.   

Nature by Art is better made,  
Whilst Art ha'● ground for what it does▪  
But when the Gr●und-work's once decayed,  
All Art but ●ore deformed shows.   

Who looked w●ll in King James his Reign,  
And i●●ing Charles his old appeared,  
Will hard●y now look young again,  
When ●h' Commonwealth has got a Beard.   

Then Misa, follow my advice,  
And leaving off thy bootless care,  
Stri●e rather to win Hearts then Eyes,  
And to appear more Good then Fair.    

Character 77. Of a Valiant Man.  
HE is only a Man; your Coward, but a Tame and rash, a wild and savage Beast. His Courage is still the same, and drink cannot make him more valiant, nor danger less. His Sword is not always out, like children's Daggers, but he is as feared to enter into quarrels, as he is fearless when he is in them once. He is never in passion, and knows no degree beyond clear Courage, being always valiant, but never furious. He holds Boast (the Coward's valour) and Cruelty (the beasts) unworthy a valiant man; and is only Coward in this, that he dares not do an unhandsome action. He is neither quarrelsome nor querulous, nor forwards in harming, nor too fearful in being harmed; but his Sword in War, is the same as Justice's Balance is in Peace. The more fierce he is in the Field, the more gentle he is in the Chamber; and he is not all outside, like those Soldiers who are nothing but Buff and Feather, but he has the inside of a Soldier, with the outside of a Courtier; and is as gallant amongst the Ladies, as in the face of an Enemy: they well therefore joined Mars and Venus together, for t'one is too harsh and rough, t'other too soft and Effeminate; both together make the best Composition of a Valiant man.   

Character 78. Of Mrs Stuart.  
STuart a Royal Name ●hat springs  
From Race of Caledonian Kings;  
Whose Composition and fair Frame  
Adds honour to tha● Royal Name:  
What praises can I worthy find,  
To celebrate thy Form a●d Mind?  
The greatest power that is ●n Earth,  
Is given to Princes by their Birth;  
But ther●'s no power in Earth ●or Heaven  
More great than what's to Bea●ty given▪  
Thâ● makes not only men relent▪  
When unto Rage and Fury bend;  
B●● Lions 〈◊〉, and Tigers mild,  
All fierceness from ●heir Breasts exiled.  
Such wonders ye● could ne'er be don●  
By Beauty's force and power alo●e,  
Without ●he power and force to boot  
Of excellent Goodness adde● to't.  
For just as Diamonds we behold  
More ●rightly shine whe● set in Gold:  
So Beauty shines far brighter yet,  
I● Virtue and in Goodness set.  
Continue then but what you are,  
So admirably Good and Fair;  
Let Princes by their Birthrights sway,  
You'll have a Power as great as they.  
I represent this Lady openly, and without Enigma, since her Beauty is so bright, and virtue's so transparent, as they cannot be shadowed nor overclouded; and with her conclude th●se Characters, since I cannot conclude them with a fairer Subject.   
FINIS.