A PIECE OF THE WORLD, Painted in proper Colours. Presented to the Illusterous Majesty of our most gracious Queen Mary. By FRANCIS LENTON gent Her Majesties Poet. Dum vivio video, & Dum video rideo. LONDON, Printed by John Raworth 1640. To his most loved friend Mr. FRANCIS LENTON. IF love, not Learning May my lines prefer, To front, not grace thy well writ Character; Or if a willing mind May plead th' excuse Of my unable, More unworthy Muse; Then take me with thee Frank; I mean as well As he, whose lines but few can parallel. And though my approbation Cannot add Lest lustre to thy book, Or make't be had In more esteem: Or free it from the mew of Simon Simple, Or the senseless Crew: Who finding more New Characters, will ask, What's he dares undertake So blunt a task? Then Master Critic Comes, and seems to snarl, Saying this work Only becomes an Earl, Yet this I know, Thine are so witty, merry, As Would have been Allowed by Overberry, Had he e'er seen 'em: Boldly then go on, Well to enlarge, what Thou hast well begun. For in despite of Black-mouthed Calumny Thy lines shall live Unto posterity: And aftertimes may With delightful pleasures Find sportive mirth In reading Lentons leisures. Thine ever, JOHN COYSE. The Contents. A State Politician. 1 A gallant Courtier. 2 A young Barrister. 3 A Commissary. 4 A Parasite or Flatterer. 5 An Vnorious man. 6. A Country Widow: 7 A Chambermaid. 8 A Broken Citizen. 9 A Bawd. 10 A Pander. 11 A Darling, 12 A Lawyer's Clerk. 13 A Farmer Tenant. 14 A Double beneficed Parson. 15 A Schoolmaster. 16 A Country Alewife, 17 An Alderman's daughter. 18 A Prodigal. 19 An Vusurer. 20 A Broker. 21 A Bragadotio. 22 A Sempster. 23 A Prostitute or Whore. 24 A Gamester. 25 An Host. 26 A Common Drunkard. 27 An Elder Brother. 28 An Inns a Court Gentleman. 29 A Low Country Soldier. 30 A Gentleman Usher. 31 A Cuckold. 32 An Informer. 33 A Bachelor. 34 An Undersheriff. 35 A Drawer. 36 A good Husband. 37 A constant man. 38 A jealous man. 39 A desperate man. 40 A True friend. 41 TO The Illustrious Majesty OF Great Britain's Monarchesse, Our most Gracious Queen, MARIE. MADAM. MInerva now hath lent a Birth, In waggish Prose to give your Grace some Mirth, In which both juvenal and Martial, Meet, and do mix their honey with their gall; Here I adventured to cut a Sluice Into the Times enormous abuse, I point at no Man single, but Truth knows That horse is galled that winches as he goes: Laugh then (blest Lady) and amongst the rest, Protect this Pamphlet peeping out in jest. Your Grace's servant, Fran: Lenton. Characters. 1. A State Politician, IS a great man deeply read in the mysteries of iniquity; who being well grounded in the Theoric, assumes the Practic is an Effect of the Cause: One, whose much study hath called him to more Care than Conscience, that whatsoever by Power and Project he achieves and accumulates to himself; his pretence is still for the good of the Commonweal: For the safety whereof he watcheth as a Fox for his prey. Foreign estates are as familiar with him as his own, for the knowledge whereof, he spends much, and gets more. The vulgar honour him more for fear than love, and either bark, or are silent, as his distance is from them. Their popular applause he esteems not, but laughs at their Envy in his higher Sphere, soaring above their Capacities by the sides of Princes, and seriously contemplating how to carry himself in the next Charge, being never troubled with any alteration, having his several Postures for all; for his Gravity, his looks, and his language are near allied, this austere, that severe; for his Habit, he is all over furred, but seldom or never foxed, except at a Coronation. In a word, he climbs up with much cost, staggers there with many cares, and commonly falls with more fears, And those that never durst libel him, living, dare cowardly throw one of juvenals stones at his Grave. 2. A Gallant Courtier. IS the out side of a Statesman, a little more gaily trimmed up, and as he is with internal endowments, so this is complete with external Compliment. He is a man so covetous, that he cannot deny you any thing, and so careless after his grant, that he will perform nothing. One whom your Tailor is much bound to for his new fashion (which is his prime study) and he reciprocally for his Tailor's faith, (which never goes without works (both which concur together till the day of account, and then he is deferred till doom's day, or else presently paid with Privilege. He hath more devices upon a new Doublet, than Ovid had verses, and those as Geometrical, as his natural: He spares for no cost whilst he may be credited; and when that fails, he falls upon some full-mouthed Lady, whose mark hath been long out; where he still prays but seld, or never prays for aught but her death. He is composed only of two Elements, Air and Fire, Levity and Choler, having the predominance, wanting water and earth, humidity and solidity, and holds nothing more ignoble than the defect of formality, His Barber and his beard do hold a fair and even Correspondency, and agree aswell as his head with its Periwig, of which, how careful he is, the doffing his Beaver will discover, even from Ludgate Hill (if he dares come so nigh it) to Chairing Cross, his more secure walk. His Congees are so common, that few care for them, and his bodye's most lowly, when his mind's most lofty: Cupid is his key, Venus his devotion, and Mercury his messenger, whilst he cornutes lame Vulcan: You may smell him before you see him, and see him long enough before you know him. He is oftentimes his own admirer, and thinks himself the only object of others, whilst they think him their abject. In brief, his tongue and his heart are most commonly as great strangers, as his hands and his actions, or his large promises & lame performances. 3. A young Barrister. IS one called too't by Reading, though he never read for't, and hath ta'en his leave of Littleton before he was well acquainted with him. At his first entrance he hath a very good Conscience, and therefore loves the Chancery better than the Common-Law, aswell for the effect of the one, as the defect of the other; where he lives by perpetual motion (as not yet ripened, for those more harsh and ambiguous Demurs, and arguments) and subsists by the same, till by stratagem in Law, he hath surprised some Alderman's daughter, by putting the Case rightly, who through the greenness of her youth and face, is horn mad for a man of his profession. His very calling writes him Esquire, though his Scutcheon sometimes cannot speak him Gentleman, except by way of admittance. He is very openhanded till his fee hath clutched it, and then he's open mouthed, and will be sure to speak more than to th'purpose, whilst his silly Client rejoiceth as much in the very tone of his tongue, as the substance of his talk, being both coequal to his capacity. His Clients are his Soul, and when they fail, he expires, only here's the difference, he provides not for his soul, but his soul for him. He'll speak more in a moment, than do in a month, and warrant your Cause according to his reading; till your hear prove his holy-days, and your Trials his experience. His ambition is to climb to the seat of Justice, but is loath to be blind in the place, lest he should not see those pictures his soul takes pleasure in, but in the mean time, he is striving to be put in Commission, where perhaps you may see him the next Quarter Sessions. 4. A Commissary, IS a man much given to libels, or rather libels to him, and (which is much) is privileged to receive them, and proves a gainer by the hand. He trade's much in Will and Inventory (the Relics of the dead) which he files with much felicity, and however the Executor speeds, he is still of the taking hand: He looks not so much to the performance of the Will, as the payment of his Fees, and Visits the wife of the next Vicarage. He hath many foul cases laid open before him, and he as sound canvases them; by the which he acquires a fair purse, and a foul Conscience Barsterdy and Bawdry are his chief rents, and incontinency and whoredom his Farmers; and (which is strange) he lives by that, for which all men die, (Sinne.) He hath many Visitations, which he bears very patiently, in regard of the sweet Cordials accrueing thereby. He is your hasty youths, and and younger Scholars Oracle, who daily worship him for his speedy licence, that they may both presently enter into their Pulpits, and he into their purses. He is one that shall excommunicate you, ipso facto, for five shillings, and absolve you immediately, ex officio, for three shillings four pence. In brief, He is the Bishop's mouth, the Bawds ear, the Sinners absolution, the Whore's purgatory, the Diocesan Mountebank, the Church wardens terror the Parsonages friend, and the Parson's supervisor, with whose wife I now leave him till the next Visitation. 5 A Parasite or Flatterer, IS Solomon's abject, debarred every wise man's Table, not so much for his gluttony, as his glozing. He is engendered by Pride, hatched up by arrogance, and perpetually fostered by fools (the Anvils on which he still beats) who by reason of their insensibility observes not his insinuation, but are presently puffed up with those Peacockestailes he sticks in their foreheads. Greatness never goes without this applausive Puppet, and goodness never can abide him, there being a kind of Antipathy between them, His tongue is in the Ear of every affectator, and then never further from his own heart. Folly and popularity are his prime objects, and he is still present where they predominate. He cannot be truly generous, for he is a slave to other men's humours, a thing contrary to a true birth, or a true heart. His greatest pride is, that he only thinks other men believe him: his greatest pleasure that he can laugh at them in's sleeve; and his greatest profit is picking of thanks: he hath more wit than wisdom, and more garrulity than grace. He is a great observer of men's fancy, that he may fit his lyre to that tune. All men in the end hate him, and he goes out like a snuff. His Conscience accuses him that he hath praised men more than God, and consequently got praise of neither; which hath so dejected him, that he drops off like a green apple in a great wind, and by his bruise grows rotten at Core, and so cousin's the next Costardmonger. 6. An unxorious man. IS one who hath left all the world for a woman, and all women for a thing called a wife, with which idol, he is so effeminately bewitched, that he forgets his annual worship at Jerusalem, and is tied up with a golden Calf at home. This Dalinea lah is his Devotion, this Ruler his religion, this Eve, the only edge to his appetite, and he will taste any fruit she tempts him to (though sour grapes) This man is never his own man, but in thought, for his actions intended, are either diverted and writhed by her simple will, or else wholly violated and broken by her supposed wisdom; He can be no good common wealth man, he is so confined to her canopy, nor a good church man, he is so tied to her cannons, nor a wise man, to be vanquished with her wilfulness: He thinks himself as safe in her favours as Adam in his first form, and hopes to merit Olympus, by making a Goddess of Diana; the which he is assured by his faith in her fair promises, and his obedience to her sacred Oracles: In fine, he is good for nothing but to multiply mankind, and consequently, Sin, and (which is fittest for him) not when he purposeth, but when she pleaseth. He cares for no body but her, nor any body at all for him; so that he may live quietly without company, and die in his own folly without funeral. 7. A country Widow. IS a broken rib of Adam, turned lose into the world again, and is searching for a new Bonesetter, and newly polishing herself for a second edition, or more fair impression. She hath la●ely been somewhat mortified in memory of her deceased, but hath suddenly gathered up her crumbs, and given herself out a brace of hundreds more than ere his estate was worth, besides his debts and legacies, whereas her validity proportionable can scarce absolve those. She carrieth herself smooth, demure, and familiar, yet at a certain distance, lest too much familiarity should breed contempt, and then she may cough long enough for one to court her. If she be young she is capable of copulation, and the sooner caught in that conjunctive Ceremony; if past the prime, the more libidinous, subtle, and dangerous, having a double will, the one from her deceased the other from her widowhood, by the last of which you may perhaps buy a pig in a poke; if she be wealthy, all your comfort is, she is her own woman, and not subject to the avaricious counsel of peevish parents, who care not though the girl cuckolded him, so the carl be scraping. She is an object to many: and it's well if but one light on her. She hath already tasted of Mandrakes; and likes the fruits so well, that she longs to graft more imps upon that stock. She is now trimmed up for the next fair, where if you can bargain for her, you may ride her home with a twined thread, and then make the best of an ill bargain. 8. A Chambermaid. HAth her proper denomination from the Place where she is most conversant and couchant (the Chamber) and is the careful polisher thereof, the obsequious pinner of her Lady, and the true lover of her Tailor, ever since the curious cutting of her last Wastecoate, who (with his goose) hath made such impression in her, that her Lady's Closet is thereby impoverished, and her Marmelet melted in his mischievous mouth. The beds and she are a kind of Relatives, where by reason of her near alliance and familiarity, she catcheth many a fall (to which she is subject) but is seldom hurt by it in regard of their softness. She is the instrumental cause of her Lady's Curiosity, and Pride, the original as also the secret and soft shutter of the Portall, when her Lady would be private. Sowing and starching is her prime occupation, and the Close-stool her greatest slavery. She is a creature commonly very courteous and may prove an honest woman, if she be not puffed up in the place. She is the patiented endurer of her Lady's peevishness, which perhaps may purchase her a pair of old silk stocking, which she providently lays up till the next Summer, and then dernes them for the wedding day. Watching and warming of in a short time wrinkcles her, and the blossom once blasted, the fruit faileth. The best she can acquire is but Mistress of the Maids, and the worst that can befall her is but footing of Stockings. 9 A broken Citizen. IS one whose horns are grown so great, that he is ashamed they should be seen, and is therefore glad the Gates are wide enough to give may to his passage, of which he takes his vale for a certain season to some sinister Sanctuary; where he lies at rack and manger, whilst his too credulous Creditors are gnawing their Thumbs. By his subtle carriage he wrought himself into their Credit, of set purpose, shortly to be out of their company; which, with acute language he hath at last accommplisht; and now they may go look this Bush-lane needle in a bottle of hay. He absents himself so cunningly, that they shall not so much as hear of him, till they have spent their galls, and then by degrees he gives way to their inquiry with a letter from Ireland, or some place fare remote, whilst, (though disguised) he is at the next Tavern to them; observing how like so many Kites they lay wait for the Chicken in the Wood-pile. He hath been a man of a large tongue, & short hair, which two have been great helps to his game. He is a man now so well ly'nd with the coin acquired by his former impostures, that he is in a quandary whether to give them a desired Composition of twelve pence i'th' pound, or to abjure the City for ever. His Conscience (as false as the light he once deceived by) tells him, they that lost it may spare it, and he that wins aught may wear it, whilst he spends it worse than he got it, and must certainly pay for it, he knows not how soon. He now discovers the secrets of Tradesmen, and laughs at his sleight in his higher Sphere. He hath now admitted himself amongst the multitude of Man-slayers, and feeds them for fear, and his own folly for fashion. Milford lane, and Ram-ally are his Castles, Cashiered Captains, his companions; Soldiers his Conductors; and Sergeants and Bailiffs, his perpetual dream and Terror; and in that little ease I'll leave him, till he hath spent that he hath stolen, and then his last Refuge is Ludgate, where his doleful voice gives more delight than pity to his repining Creditors. 10 An old Bawd. IS a menstruous beast, engendered of divers most filthy excrements, by the stench of whose breath the Air is so infected, that her presence is an inevitable contagion, her eyes more poisonous than the Basilisk; her nose (if any) most pestilent pocky, her tongue more subtle than the Hyena, who still howls in some feigned voice for the devouring of innocents', one who hath damnably destroyed her own soul, and is devilishly devising the destruction of others. She is the mother of impudence, the Dungeon of diseases, the daughter of lust, and the most obscene sister of scurrilous and lascivious delights. And excellent Astronomer, for by the rattling of her bones she can discover the alteration of the weather; Fools have fatted her up to the day of slaughter, and Knaves are ready to cut her throat for it. Marshals, Beadles, and Constables are her continual terror, whom by much silver, she persuades to silence; silly maids, untamed youths, and sullen wives are her chief marchandizes, and she sells sin on both hands at a high rate. Adulterate beauties, and counterfeit complexions, are her alluring baits to deceive the simple, and all's fish that comes to net with her; All the credit she hath got by her abomination, is carting without commiseration & casting of loathsome things at her defiled Carcase. Diseases at last dry up her marrow, and rottenness so shivers her, that she drops asunder on a sudden, and wretchedly dies without pity; for whom, a Christian burial is too courteous. 11. A Pander. IS the Spaniel of a Bawd, who fetcheth and carrieth at her pleasure, and is the most servile slave of baseness. For half a crown he will be your servant all day, and for the whole cut your throat at night. His looks are commonly silly and dejected, but you will find his heart deceitful, and his actions damnable. He will fawn upon those he fears, and roughly misuse those he can master. He lives at all distances and postures, one while Tapster, or Tobacco-seller, otherwise Strumphusher; now brother, than Cousin; sometimes master of the house; yet all this while, Rogue, Thief, and Pimp. He is impudence itself, for if the officer approacheth, he sweareth and forsweareth, as the case shall require. He is much subject to Kicking, and is often basted, together with his Bawd. He walks in perpetual darkness, and is still in danger of the Watch, and cannot be otherwise than the abortive issue of some Adulteress, his nature is so consonant to theirs. He is spurred out of all honest company, and fostered with none but fornicators. Helives thus till Bridewell hath possessed his Bitch's, and the Pox possessed him. And then with a meager countenance, and creeping thread bare Cloak, he creeps from Bawd to Bawd for a crust to comfort his crazy Carcase, and at last in his own ordure, most desperately and distractedly dies in a ditch, a grave already digged for him. 12. A Country Girl or Darling. IS a raw, young, and green maid, newly arrived at the Haven of discretion, and yet fare from the Port thereof, one that thinks more than she speaks, speaks more than she understands, and understands more than she dares express. She is pranked up like a Peacock by her doting Parents, and is the precious pearl of her mother's Pride, for the Crow thinks his own bird the fairest, and they think their Goose a Swan. She is a baby trimmed up for every feast and fair, where the Plough-drag salutes her with two kisses, two pennyworth of pears, and a twopenny red ribbon, which hath so ravished the Girl, that she god's after him with much greediness, and presently puts finger i'th' eye for his absence. She is very towardly and tractable, the cause that her father so fears his horsekeeper, lest he should steal her and his horse together. She is one whom no desert can gain, nor Gentry obtain, except he can first plough with that Heiffer, and then he may find out the Riddle, for she is fall'n in love with an Acrestaffe, and longs to handle it. She is her father's hope, and her mother's happiness, the Paragon of that Progeny, though the coursest in that Country. If they dare trust her, she is sent to be sold at the next Market, together with her Basket of Butter, where at the Cross her simpering will scarce give her leave to tell the price on't. And thus I leave her still longing for something that her friends like not, and in that only consists her wisdom, that she will please her fancy sooner than her friends. 13. A Lawyer's Clerk. IS a spruce youth somewhat above the degree of a Scrivener, much conversant amongst sheets & skins, Subjects he works upon much, and is a kind of Juggler, who by slight of hand, will suddenly make a cleanly conveyance of your estate, that you shall not afterwards need to study how you may prodigally spend it; and he will so contrive it by precedent, that he will make you an example whilst you live. He is one that will do more with a grey Goose wing, than ever Robin Hood could do, and is very dangerous, if once he puts his hand too't. Four pence a sheet hath furnished him with a new Suit, and he sometimes executes the place of a Gentleman-usher upon his Mistress. He is a man generally of no solidity, except by his much costivenes with continual sitting, yet a man of great study, insomuch it hath so stupefied him, that he looks for his pen when it sticks in's ear. Littleton is too obscure for his capacity; and not one amongst forty of them can read Law French. He is commonly a good fellow, and loves to gain no more than he means to spend. He hath a piece of judas his office, (the Carriage of the Bag) which were it full of Pieces, as it is of Papers, he might chance to show his Master a trick forted. He aspiers sometimes to his Master's daughter, but being staved off there, he chops upon the Chambermaid, and there sticks fast. he hath looked for preferment till age hath dimmed his eyesight, and is now endeavouring to go Clerk of a Band in the next voluntary Voyage; which if he speed, the Leagre so belouzeth him, that he returneth with much Humility, and poorly prostrates himself for a halfpenny a sheet. He is a mere Clerk without any other quality, and hath seldom any commendation, but he writes a fair hand. 14. A Carl, or Farmer's Tenant. IS a kind of a Mole, perpetually delving in the earth for his dinner; and is of as great judgement as Aesop's Cock, esteeming his corn more than precious stones. He is a fellow of a very great stomach, which his Landlord can quail, sooner than his poor dinner pacify. And is somewhat of the natures of a Hog, looking still downward whilst he chaws and gathers the Acorns, not knowing the Tree whence they fell: and seldom looks up, but for a shower. He is the wretched Model of our forefather's misery, and that which was Adam's curse, is his calling; Sorrow, the sweat of his face, and a barren field, are his wracked rents and revenues, and a griping Landlord his intolerable grief. Yet he riseth early with the Lark, and whistles (as he thinks) to the tune she sing, when his broken notes demonstrate nothing but Music for a horse, and according to that whistle is his singing of Psalms (the cause of so much discord in the Country Choir) When he tills the earth, he tallowes it with his own grease, and endures it the better for the dunging of his ground. His harvest is his greatest happiness, which is more welcome to him then the Sabbath, and in reaping time he wisheth none, lest he should lose more in that one day, than get in the other six: for though he acknowledgeth godliness to be great gain, yet his greatest is his grain. He is the soil on which all Citizens and Idle folk feed, the very drudge and doghorse of the world, one that dares not eat the fruit of his labour lest his rent should fall short, and he be turned forth of his toilsome Vineyard. His hands are his lands, his pleasures real pains, his Crops carking Cares; his food, the bread of sorrow, his the skins of his outworn Cattles, and taglocks of his travel: his whole life a continual toil, and his work an endless warfare. His greatest comfort is his lawful Calling, and his moiling in the earth, a means of his mortification. Every clod he turns over is the emblem of his misery. And his Colter and Share the emblems of his grave, the which he is always digging. 15 A double beneficed Parson. IS a Master of Arts or Crafts, who by favour and coin, hath caught a degree a year too soon, and now lies for all the live he can lay hold of. He hath already rung his Bells for two Parsonages, and not sufficiently preferred by those, is putting in for a Prebend or two to make himself more complete in his Taffata Tippet, and more curious Cassock. Simony and he are Correlatives, and that which he obtains by Simony, he retains by Subtlety. His Degrees give him a Doctor (though a very dunce) and his device is now for the next Deanery, to which Music, money must be the master of the Organs, if he means to sing in that Quire. He hath two Pulpits and one Sermon, which he preacheth at both his Parishes at his primer induction, and then a couple of silly Curates read out the rest of his Incumbrency for the twentieth part of his Parsonages. He is one who hath the cure of others souls, and yet (by his account) cares not for his own; and (the more's the pity, is clad with the fleece, without feeding the flock. His Pulpits and he are so fall'n out, that they hate one another, and 'twere no matter if he had fall'n out of them long ago. His greatest study is how he may wrack his Tithes to a higher Rate, and then feed at ease like a Boar in a Frank. He's very fearful of another Parliament, lest one of his Live should fall short of his reckoning. He hath fished till he hath filled his bag, then sits down to fills belly, and lends little or naught to the distressed. He is one whom God hath fall'n out with for his two little teaching, and his Neighbours for too much Tything: He will sooner convert the Glebe into a pasture, than a soul to his Master, and is of this opinion, that if he hires one, his duty is performed. He is the cause of so many poor Scholars, and his overbidding, the debarring of their gifts, or forestaller of their Markets: and yet he is so ill inclined, that he curseth the Laity who possess impropriations, and is now grown so fat with pleasure & pride, that nothing will satisfy him but a Bishopric, or a Grave; in the last of which, he is daily wished, that some man of more deserts, might climb to that place he so seldom came near, (the Pulpit.) 16. A young Schoolmaster, IS a new Commenced Bachelor, who hath sucked so long at the paps of his Nurse (the University) that she hath almost pined him: and therefore his fortunes denying him the degree of Master, in a resolution leaves the Nurse to rock the Cradle herself, and boldly adventures into the broad world, (like a Lapwing with its shell o'th' Crown) with Lily in's head, and Ramus in's hand, where in some small Village he first exerciseth the Art of a Pedegogue, for instruction of infants. Two pence a week, by the Rurals, is proffered him at his first entrance, for the literature of little primer Boys, and four pence a week for Accidences, besides his Sundays dinner, by turn, together with the plain gifts of some of their plainer mothers; by the which, he atchieveth to the annual Pension of ten pound Sterling He is one still exercising the rod of correction, and the greatest part of his Revenue, is the fees of tender mothers for sparing his rod, and hating their Children. He doth all things in order, for he hath now taken orders, and gins to peep into a Pulpit with a pocket-Sermon; and as that takes, is either animated or discouraged, to proceed to a Vicarage. He is one commonly of more desert than respect, and often, for his good parts, surpasseth their lazy Parson. If he escapes a Free-school, he may light upon a Freeholders' daughter, and her love may procure him a Library. A Lecture read to her may enlarge his Patrimony, and a licence confirm. Hope and patience are his props, and his persuasion is still, that the Seven Liberal Sciences will not see him want. A Free-school Lecture or Vicarage is his next aim, and if all these fail, a Scholar, by his industry, may soon be fit for any thing. 17. A Country Alewife, IS a subtle Creature, who seeming to be clad with simplicity, and to be as plain as her poorer Petticoat, by her short Curtsies and rural carriage, will draw till both you and her Barrel be both dry together; and may be termed the Water work of iniquity, or the Unctuous Engine of sophisticate and adulterate Ale. Tossing of Jugs, Pots, and Cans are her joy, and the froth the best part of her gain. The Assize of bread and beer is a hateful to her as a Promoter, and yet all is not well except he be in with her; and (which is worse) she is forced to make the Disners drunk once a month to conceal her cunning. She is the Receptacle for all comers, and whatsoever be the company, their coin shall be alike to her. Her Purse fills as their bellies, but empties not so soon, for it seldom exonerats its self till the Maulster appears, and then farewell forty pence. Misreckoning and she are sworn sisters, and her own daughter is forced to lie for't. Druunkennesse and quarrelings are her daily guests, and mischiefs, ofttimes, the murderer of her sign; and then the barrels are ill entreated for their so liberal contribution. Forlorn swaggerers are her greatest sorrow, for they'll score against her will, and then wipeed out with a wet finger. She hath filled her Purse by forfeiting her Recognizance, (which the Clerk of the Peace will empty with his fees.) As Drunkard's increase, so doth her Tipping; and the Tap and she are tossed up together. She loves Tinkers and Pedlars for their true payment of her, and hates nothing more than a Puritan, or a Parson that persuades from drinking. She is annually forced to purchase a new licence, that her launted liquor may run more warrantable. Oaths, Idleness, and infinite absurdities are begotten and fostered at her Alebench, and poor Ale-knights wives and children do perpetually curse her. 18. An Alderman's daughter. IS the peevish Spawn of a peremptory Citizen; now ready at the point of preferment, and is heighted up for that purpose, and is the purer mettle of the miser her father; who, not long since, descended from the loins of some lubbardly Farmer, and is now by giddy fortune furred all over, and in the vanity of his spirit looks askance if you miss the title of Master Alderman. This Peacock, his daughter, is one of the painted Pageants of the City, who dares not look upon her splea-foot for crushing the sets of her Ruff with her Chin, and wears her coat the longer to conceal them, yet (such is her pride) cannot forbear the holding them up for her silk stockings sake. She is grown to that height, that she scorns to know her father's courser kindred; nay more, longs so for honour, (the Idol of fools) that she disdains a bird of her own feather (a Cockney) though a foolish Knight; and ambitiously (through the conception of her coin) aspires to the Court, and thinks a Lord little enough for her. And though she be crooked both in mind and body, yet confidently maintains, that Gold makes all things straight, for which she knows straight, for which she knows her father hath not stretched his Conscience in vain. She is the prettiest Parrot her mother hath hatched, and in her discourse (which is never solid) will speak nonsense with much celerity, and will pass by it without blushing, or notice of it. She with the French-hood her mother, do pace with much pomp and equipage to the Spittle, & to the Rehearsal Sermons, where she retains only two senses, a wand'ring eye, and a liquorish palate; seeing of strange objects, and tasting of sweetmeats, with which, her purled handkerche is . Her mind is much set upon Court Masques, the cause of her slighting the City, where sometimes she hath participated of such curious Cates, that the pleasure of the will not yet out of her palate, which makes her in pensive sort solicit her parents to give her her own choice; and however, she will be a Lady, though she lose all for't. If her mother once call her Madam, she is made for ever, for it is the height of her ambition to be the top of her kindred, lest her betters should take place of her. Her Title and Attire are her only Idols, with which she is hurried in a Coach with six horses, to the height of her pride, (which must have a fall) and then perhaps she may be left with a Litter. 19 A Prodigal, IS a profuse fellow puffed up with affectation, and nuzzled in the same by vain glory (the final end his smaller wit and thinner skull aims at) towards which all his untowards which all his untoward actions tend. He deems all his equals, his inferiors, especially those he most accompanies, amongst which he thinks himself the best man for paying all the reckoning, which they incontinently without grudging grant him, lest their very offer should provoke him to indignation, at least to oaths, to which he is very apt. He is never in love with money but when he wants it, and when he hath it, he sleights it. He is one of a very yielding nature, insomuch, that if you praise aught of his that he affects, he presently bestows it on you, scorning to be so base as to stand a begging. Nothing troubles his soul so much as to be last in a new fashion, or the least in company when he is so accoutred. His carriage is very courteous, yet somewhat quilted with singularity (the secret pride of Prodigals,) fools are his admirers, and knaves his foothers, whilst he forgets himself to remember them, and never thinks of shutting the stable-doore till the steed be stolen. His greatest brag is, he hates covetousness, not dreaming how in the mean time he embraceth the contrary extreme vice. He spends with such confusion, that his supposed friends and associates do willingly forget his Courtesies, and is of such sublimity of spirit, that he never looks so low as hogs, till he eats husks with them, and then the Trough proves his Touchstone. All men behold him with an (alas! 'tis pity) whilst few or none supply his poverty which pursues him like an armed man. He is at last o'retane like a Butterfly in a storm, and left by all those that seemed to love, and (methinks) in anguish of Spirit I hear him cross the Proverb and say, Better is a penny in one's purse, than a Courtly friend. 20. An Usurer, IS an old Fox clad in a lamb skin, who hath preyed so long abroad, the he hath feathered his nest for hi● time, and now sits close in hi● Den, and feeds securely upon his former stealths, And though the Proverb saith Ill gotten goods never prosper yet it fails with him, for hi● golden tree flourisheth and crop increaseth what weathersoever comes. And if ol● Time lends him but years and days still, he cares not though he give time to others, as if he had it to spare. Gold and silver are his Idols or Images, which he hides as close as Rachel did her fathers; he keeps them prisoners under lock and key, till Bills and Bonds give security for their safe return, with another petty impersonal Idol, called Interest. His greatest mystery is the particular knowledge of each petitioners estate, who solicit him for money, which by secret intelligence he knew better sometimes than the borrowers themselves, which if he fears, he falls off till they find security to fill up his mouth. His perpetual meditation is upon the future days of payment, which h● punctually observes, hoping the missing of a day may make a forfeiture, and having law for't, let conscience go to the devil. He is grown very subtle in his trade, prying into the possessions o● young heirs, whose parent● by debts and legacies have impoverished; & if he can bu● catch them in a Calfe-skin he is cocksure; for by such mortgages his money so eats, that thereby he soon achieves Fee-simple, for by many such Calfe-skins, he i● able to clothe himself in Sables. He seldom furnisheth men at the first entreaty, though the security be sufficient, but will procrastinate you for a weeks intermission, pretending in the mean time to borrow it for you; which borrowing, attracts Brokage (the younger brat of Usury) In his trade above all others, you must both pray and pay, and yet ne'er have thanks for your custom: commonly he dares scarce eat of his abundance for diminishing the stock; and but for cold, would go naked, to save cost: his very habit will discover him from top to toe, and his leaner chaps, his pinched carcase. He is still counting his chickens before they are hatched, whilst his own day of account befalls him unawares. He never sang the fifteenth Psalm with a true heart, which troubles his conscience on his deathbed, and may justly make him fear he hath lost more Treasure then ere he traded for. 21. A Broker. IS a forlorn, or bankrupt Tradesman, who hath dived into divers sorts of mercatory deceits, and finds none so sweet as this mischievous mystery of Brokery, (the black Art of dishonesty) He is the receptacle for Thievery, and a vent for much Villainy. There is a reciprocal kindness betwixt him and a Rogue, and were't not for filshing, his Trade would fail. Rather than not be trading, he will descend to petty Larceny, or any knavery to gain a penny. Pawns are his perpetual practice, for which (of what kind soever) he never lends above half the value, setting a peremptory day for their redemption, with six pence for the bill, and interest triple the Statute in the hundred, upon their redemption, which he seldom fears, for he knows the parties of be no such paymasters. He works much upon Poverty and necessity, and by his unlawful interest, ofttimes eats out the price of that they were full sorry to part with. He confidently walks by his old remnants, for all comers, sitting at the receipt of all ill custom. Coozeners are a great part of his Customers, and Cutpurses his Coadjutors. His chiefest knavery is the alteration of the property, that the description of the deceived, may not find out the deceit. He is a back friend to the City, the scum of Tradesmen, a fosterer of Theft, and a palpable stain of the Suburbs. Long-lane & London-wall may yet embrace him, (to the great wrong of Newgate) till some further Law reform it, for the Receiver is as bad as the Thief, and the enticing cause of stealth, of which many accuse him; and if he be so impudent as to deny it, Tyburn may shortly prove it, which dispatcheth many more deserving. 22. A Thraso or Braggadotia, IS a boisterous fellow in a Buffcoat, swelling like Aeolus, in windy words, whose tongue is still applauding himself, and detracting from others; and by grim looks and stern language idolizeth his own ignominious actions. One that makes all his frays with his unctuous Tongue, and then is forced sometimes (unwillingly) to maintain and defend them by his timorous hands, or to avoid them by her treacherous feet. His valour is daring and affrighting words, which he foameth out with such a forced fury, that you would think him ●n earnest, and so he would be, save that his heart gives his tongue the lie, which it ●s obediently puts up, as he will your blows; for hold ●ut his feigned Choler up to ●s feeble height, and begin but where he ends, and he'll quake like an Aspen leaf, or grow so phlegmatic and cool, that he will take your kicks for courtesies, and your corrections for good misconstructions, yet by his rough-way he often carries the conquest amongst Cowards, whose smallest satisfaction, upon any cause of duel he suddenly entertains with inward joy, lest persisting in his peremptoriness he should force them but to offer defence, of which he is very fearful. And if contrary to his intent, he chanceth by his austerity, to incur a quarrel (of which h● is very cautelous) it's enough to put him into a quartain ague, and his temerity is suddenly turned to timidity. That little valour which he hath, I must needs confess is true, because it's linked with discretion, for I'll warrant you, he'll strike none but those he knows will not resist: he is a School boy well learned in this, that he knows who he can master. In brief, he is one that would be valiant, but for beating; and being beaten, esteems himself the better man, in that he adventured it And may be compared to a Tempest, that blusters a while, and is suddenly silent; or to a blazing Candle, that flutters till it extinguisheth, and then stands there stinking. 23. A Sempster Shopkeeper, IS a feminine Creature, furnished with the finest Ware, making her greatest gain of Sindon, or fine linen; transforming it into several shapes for that purpose, and may be called the Needlework pearl of prettiness. She is very neatly spruced up, and placed in the frontispiece of her shop, of purpose, (by her curious habit) to allure some Custom, which still increaseth & decreaseth, as her beauty is in the full, or the wane. She hath a pretty faculty in presenting herself to the view of Passengers, by her rolling eyes, glancing through the hang of Tiffany and Cobweb-lawn, that the Travellers are suddenly surprised, and cannot but look bacl, though but to view babbies in her face, and in affection to her comeliness, must needs cheapen her commodity, where they are wrapped into a bargain by her beauty, and do kiss the Nurse for the child's sake, which she kindly accepts, and desires them as they like that, she may have more of their Custom. In her trade she is much troubled with stitches; amongst which backe-stich is the most ordinary, easy, and pleasant to her; and if you cannot bargain for her Ruffs in her shop, she will fit you with choice at your Chamber, so you pay her well for her pains: She is well acquainted with hemming too, which sometimes makes her leave her Needle to drink a cup of Canary, to break her stitch; nor is she ignorant of Cutwork and Pursework, but hath her particular patterns for them too. Her smile, in ask what you lack, will force you to want somewhat (though but a pair of socks) and by your buying of them, she may draw you to a shirt, and warm it for you too the next morning. She is the pattern of cleanliness, the Barbary Button of bravery, an Exchanger or City Barterer, who cannot want custom so long as her ware's good She love not those that lie naked, to save linen and hopes to grow fat by coining new fashions. And thus I leave her stitching till her thread be cut, that some younger of her faculty may trade in her turn. 24. A Prostitute or Common Whore, IS a Creature in the form and shape of our mother Eve, but of fare more impudence, for as Eve desired to hid her nakedness, this covets to discover it, making a Trade of lust, and a pastime of incontinence. A painted jesabel peeping out at her polluted windows, with a nod or beckon to allure the simple; and shamelessly saluting those she ne'er saw; and may be compared to a Jakes, which every rogue useth for necessity, and then abhors it. She is the very Compendium and abstract of all baseness, nor is there any abomination to which she is unapt. She is hell itself whilst she lives upon earth, and her fire burns as hot as Aetna; to whose flames none can approach without either scorching or consuming. And (which is inexcusable and inexpiable) she makes a calling of accursed Copulation, and justifies it lawful for her lively hood. She is both menstruous and mercenary: Lust and Murder are her professions, and she cares not who knows it. Her veins are filled with several sorts of poisons, which swell till they burst out into some loathsome excrement; and then, all that know her, hate her; and all that lusted after her, now loathe her. As she is an actor of any mischief, so, at last, she becomes the Emblem of most extreme misery, who with half a nose, and one eye, is making her fatal end, and is happy if her torment end here. 25. An ordinary Gamester. IS one that hath used many tricks and devices to pick up a base living, but finds no deceit so fair, acquaint, and gentle as this slight of hand, this nimble god Mercury, this cunning trip of a die. He is never idle, nor ever well employed for he is still thinking, plotting, and devising to find out some fool to cousin. He is more covetous than any Usurer, for he desires but his principal with certain interest, but this Youth cries. Have at all; and is perpetually shuffling and cutting for advantage. He is somewhat too prodigal of other men's purses, especially in his habit, which is commonly neat, if not brave and gallant; for his are his greatest stock, of which he ought to have four suits, two to wear, and two to pawn. The first makes him fit for his betters society; the second, for supply to his game, if he chance to be spent: yet he is very seldom but on the gaining hand, especially when he meets with some profuse young Apprentice, or some young Inns a Court Man that hath lately received his quarterage, for by these devices he dives into the pockets of the dissolute, and as he gets it from fools, so he spends it on Queans. Cursing, swearing, and quarrelings, are his Nocturnal attendance, which arise from Choler, and the loss of Coin, mixed with want of sleep. He preposterously altars the course of Nature, as he altars the Cards, sleeps all day, and plays all night, only he will spare some time to eat and drink drunk upon a lucky hand, so that he hath no leisure to pray, except to blind fortune. He never thinks on his sins, till he hath lost all his substance, and then (if he hath but grace a little to pause on them) they flock so fast from his memory to his mind, that he cannot endure their grim looks, and therefore chaps them and his Dice together into his Box, and cries, Hang sorrow, care will kill a Cat. He is one that seldom thrives in his By-path to his end, but his goddess Fortune, at last; plays the whore with him, and leaves him in his greatest extremity: And when he hath neither to pawn nor sell, he is forced to borrow twelve pence to pay for his Ordinary, and sometimes lies a week together at the mercy of the Ordinary. He ebbs and flows as the tide, and nothing makes him hope any good of himself, but his daily change, which perhaps may put him in mind of his last, that death may not catch him dicing, at hazard, nor Time (whom he hath much abused) in fury break his hour glass, and so justly by Catastrophe cousin him without care, that hath cheated so many without Conscience. 26. An Host, IS most commonly a Corpulent fellow, so puffed up with the unctuous Element of Ale, that his wicket is not wide enough for his passage, and therefore his gates are daily open, lest they should prejudice his guts. His chiefest livelihood is by the come in of others, and not of his own. He is as greedy of guests, as the Devil of souls, and as loath to part with them; which makes him so often go gaping to the Gate, with a Tapster or Oastler in's mouth, gaping for new guests. His threadbare Salutation is always welcome Gentlemen, which very words do wind in the Tapster, and consequently a frothy Jugge; and it's ten to one, but ere you have ended that, he is entered into some strange tale, perhaps collected out of his last night's dream, and as true too, for herein consists his best faculty, in ministering cause of mirth and news to his weary and welcome Travellers, (things to which he knows man's Nature is much addicted) for he reads more men than Books, and should be wise, but that his head's too little for his body: yet if he catch your horse in arrearages, you'll find him cunning enough, for he'll raise his Crest so hie, that he'll mak● the door too little for him▪ He is a great husband in hi● drinking, for he is neve● drunk at his own cost, which makes my Ostesse bear with the bestowers the better, and perhaps may requite them with a night's lodging for in a time of need. He cannot subsist without company though he be Cuckold for't, and is never melancholy but when Gallants pass by his gates without tarrying, or tarry till he is forced to trust them; and then he mourns i'th' Chine for a month after. His greatest trouble is, that Physicians tell him, he is subject to the Dropsy, which he will not believe till he sees it, and then he and his purse are purged together of some of their sinister and superfluous gain. Drunkenness and gluttony are his best guests, of which he is both entertainer and partaker; & grows fat by profuseness, & rich by riotous revel, which though it sometimes disturbs the peace of his little commonwealth, yet the payment of the reckoning works his pacification, with an (all's well that ends well) His trade cannot fail so long as men have mouths and money, which he knows will be till both his lease and he expire. He is a man of little or no faith, the cause he doubts his salvation, yet bezils up and down, till he waddles into his winding-sheet, and then goes a journey he knows not whither; and it is well for him, if at the end of his travel, he finds an Inn not worse than his own. 27 A common Drunkard, IS a reasonable beast, and a sensitive man: a strange Monster, half man, half beast, swimming in the Ocean of Bacchus, and like the Whale belching and foaming out of his mouth and nostrils abundance of that frothy and unsavoury Element he so lately ingurgitated and swallowed, to the amazement of those smaller fishes that flock together about him, and is drowned in his own orb. One whose essential parts are so obscured, his sense so dulled, his eyes so dazzled, his face so distorted, his Countenance so deformed, his joints so enfeebled, and his whole body and mind so transformed, that he is become the child of folly, the derision of the world, and is led like the Ox to the slaughter, as his own executioner; yet in all this, his head bears the greater sway, and his feet are not swift to do mischief. His belly is his god, the which he over-cloyes with drink-offerings, and he is always indebted to my Ostesse, and his belly to him, but he never to that, so long as his Purse, Credit, or shame can make even with it. He is one that either spews himself out, or gives occasion to be spurned out of all civil company. Apt to any thing he can stand to execute (except Virtue) a mere stranger to him. Noddy is his usual game, and for Ale too; till he grows so stunified, that he nods his Nose upon the Noddy-boord, and in revenge strikes his opposite for the wrong offered, and there the game ends, and fray gins, and then calls for drink to drink himself friends with them, which friendly cup gives occasion of a second quarrel. He is the Maltworm of the Commonwealth, that sucks in the juice of the poor labourer, and leaves his own family so dry, that they are either parched with famine, or burnt with thirst. In brief, he is the offscum of the kingdom, and fit for nought but to set in the front of some vain and voluntary voyage, lest he should run away in the Rear, and rob his own parish for ever after. 28 An Elder Brother, IS oft times the heir of Fortune, and folly, both together, and will still maintain the Proverb, Fortuna favet fatuos: and as he is heir, so is he often executor to his father's ill husbandry, which sometimes gripes him so, that it grinds his estate into a smaller quantity, to the diminishing of the Manor, with the apurtenances. He is so encumbered with such a Litany of Legacies for the smaller Infants, that his wit is almost confounded with the very Catalogue of their names, if not wholly distracted in the discharge of their portions; for his brain generally is but shallow, and consequently is soon empty, & as soon runs over. He is not given to travel (the Ambition of sharper wits) for he is in perpetual travel at home, whose staidness his Low-Country brother takes advantage of, by strong stratagems and designs of war, till (besides his Legacy) he hath angled himself into coin enough to purchase him a Company, which he dissolves into Dutch Ale, and dries it up with more dull Tobacco. His Lady with her Coach, have run themselves out of their way, her out of wits, and him out of his money, to uphold her fancy, ●nd the new fashion both together, till the Mercer for his money gathers into his estate by mortgage; which, he is as well able to redeem, as to build Paul's, or rule his wife. His ambition is still to raise his house, though he sells his land, and live upon the Lease at the rate of the Purchase. He sometimes hath wit or wealth enough to be made a Justice for the Peace, where his looks bewray his learning, and he never speaks, but to some or no purpose. The Fates in Mercy made such for the relief of younger Mercury's; and they make the best living and worst use on't. And thus I leave him, that often leaves many behind him to the Tyranny of Fortune, whilst he is studying his Pedigree. 29. A young Inns a Court Gentleman. IS an Infant, newly crept from the Cradle of learning, to the Court of liberty, from logic to law (both grounded on reason) from his Tutor to the Touchstone of wits, where he is now admitted amongst the brave imps of the Kingdom, to grow Pillars of their Country. He is his own man now, and left to the view of fair virtue, and foul vice, the last of which lays siege to his tender Walls, and often makes a shrewd Battery, if not quite scales it. He is one that for the most part forgets his errand, and studies Poetry in stead of Perkins. His greatest care now, is how to carry himself according to the Dancing Art, and holds it a greater disgrace to be Nonsuit with a Lady, than Nonplus in the Law. He tramples upon the Terms oft, and holds it a base language, about which to busy his more high and transcendent thoughts. When he aspires once to be a Reveller, he than reveals himself to the full, and when he should be mooting in the Hall, he is perhaps mounting in the Chamber, as if his father had only sent him to cut Capers, and turn in the Air till his brains be adled, and makes things merely for ornament, matters of special use. His Recreations and lose expense of time, are his only studies (as Plays Dancing, Fencing, Taverns, Tobacco) and Dalliance, (which if it be with Time, is irrevocable) and are the alluring baits of ill disposed extravagants. He is roaring when he should be reading, and feasting when he should be fasting, for his Friday-night supper doth usually equalise his weekly Commons, and it's to be feared, he will exceed two meals in the week besides, with laced Mutton, for whosoever pays for his Commons, he'll fall aboard. He is a youth very apt to be wrought upon at his first entrance, and there are Fishers of purpose for such young fry. He achieves much experience before he arrives at the Bar, and then (if ever) gins to study, when (for his time) he should begin to plead. Amorous Sonnets, warbled to the Viol, are his Celestial Harmony, and if you put a Case between, you make a great discord. He loves sense bettert than reason, and consequently not so fit to make a Lawyer. Wherefore I could wish his friends to cause him to retire, before he be too fare spent, and to marry him before he be stark mad, or a worse mischief (if possible) befall him. 30. A Low-country Common Soldier. IS an idle fellow, as weary of his own Country, as that is of him; and lest he should be pressed some worse Voyage, goes voluntary thither to avoid it. One that hath tired all his friends here, and is now transported thither to trouble the Boars there, where he is now admitted amongst a multitude of mischievous fellows, to learn all his postures; the first of which, is to double his Dutch Can till his Tongue doubles between his teeth, and then to fall out till he be beaten into a stomach. And when that small quantity of coin he carried with him, is exhausted, he simply settles himself to four shillings for eight days, which he politicly pours down his gullet in a day, and then lives by Virginian vapour a week after, till his stomach so wambles, that he is forced to lumber his upper Garment to supply his guts, reserving still the Emblem of a Soldier (his Sword) and a Plymouth Cloak, otherwise called a Battoon. By this time he is well entered, and will madly strike upon the least occasion, which his Schoolfellows perceiving, grow as mild now, as heretofore they were malapert; and will rather entreat him to drink away his Choler or belt, than force him to the field. He is now grown to that height of valour, that he runs over a Dutch Froken, or else falls fowl upon her, to the endangering of her firkin of Butter, and more solid Cheese, with no small effusion of tears from her fatter Ale-tub. These, with many other postures, he hath achieved too by Stratagem, and thinks himself a Sergeant Major in these designs. As for his Pike & Musket, he seldom troubles them, except sometimes upon mere compulsion to fill up a Company. Half a year hath so qualified him, that for want of supply, he begs for a Furlow, and then legs with it, till he arrives at his own Shore, with two hempteere napkins pined together at his shoulders for a shirt, or else none at all. Thus having spent his spirits, he pensively creeps home with many creepers about him: where, having gathered up his crumbs, tells such loud stories of the leaguers he lay in, & discourses so superficially of the discipline of War, that he amazeth some Country Traine-Captaine, insomuch that he courteously takes him to the Alehouse, and gives him a Colours for't, which he gratefully acceps, and vows hereafter rather to be hanged in his own Country, than to be abused by Belgic Counterbuffs. And though he hath not yet left his swearing, yet he hates lying Per dieu abominably. And hath gained so much wit there, that he thinks the name of a Soldier makes a man valiant, rather than valour makes him a Soldier, which he hath already forsworn. 31. A Gentleman-usher, IS a spruce fellow, belonging to a gay Lady, whose foot step, in times of Yore, his Lady followed, for he went before. But now he is grown so familiar with her, that they go arm in arm, the cause sometimes that he sleights the Gentlewoman, and yet, upon better advice, pleaseth her again in secret. He is a man whose go and stand ought to be upright, except his Lady be crooked, and then 'tis no matter though he stoop a little to please her humour. His greatest vexation is going upon sleeveless errands, to know whether some Lady slept well last night, or how her Physic worked i'th'morning, things that savour not well with him; the reason that oft times he goes but to the next Tavern, and then very discreetly brings her home a tale of a Tub. His is still forced to stand bare, which would urge him to impatience, but for the hope of being covered, or rather the delight he takes in showing his new Crisped hair, which his Barber hath caused to stand like a print hedge, in equal proportion. He hath one Commendation amongst the rest, A neat Carver) and will quaintly administer a Trencher in due season. His wages is not much, except his quality exceeds, but his veils are great; insomuch that he totally possesseth the Gentlewoman, and commands the Chambermaid to starch him into the bargain. The smallness of his legs betrays his profession, and feeds much upon Veal, to increase his Calf. His greatest ease is, he may lie long in bed, and when he's up, may call for his breakfast, and go without it. A Twelvemonth hath almost worn out his habit, which his annual pension will scarcely supply. Yet if his Lady likes the carriage of him, she increaseth his Annuity. And though she saves it out o'th'Kitchin, she'll fill up her Closet. 32. A Cuckold, IS a harmless horned creature, but they hang not in his eyes, as your Wittols do the reason of his honesty and th''others knavery. He confidently gleans after the reapers, not thinking of stealing, and kindly embraceth the leave of his neighbours, and is aswel satisfied as if he had the first cut, verifying the old Proverb, That the eye sees not, the heart grieves not He is very indulgent to his spouse, giving her her own way in all things lest she should take it; knowing that women are most apt to forbidden fruit. There is a special Sympathy, by instinct, betwixt him and his Corrival or Cuckolder, for he always loves him best, his wife likes best (a special token of a patiented and true husband.) He never grieves at his keeping of other men's children, for he is very charitable that way; and (being filled with blind zeal) loves them aswell as if they were his own. He palpably possesseth his place in his Pew, without the least conceit of pointing at him, and welcomes him to dinner that is i'th'dish before him, which his wife passeth by without blushing, praying the Gentleman to be his own Carver, whilst the silly man near dreams of her intent, after his decease, or his then departure. He lives a very contented life, and is not troubled with Jealousy (the torment of the mind) but takes all in good part, so she be pleased. He spends his time thus till he becomes one of the head-broughs of his Parish, and holds his Velvet horns as high as the best of them, he minds his own affairs more than his wives actions; and if he dies not a Pricket, he may live to be an old Stag, a very Lordly beast. 33. An Informer, IS a spy or Knave errand, that peeps into the breaches of penal Statues, not for love to the Commonwealth, as his own lucre, amongst which Assisa panis & cervitia, th'assize of Bread and beer are his greatest Revenues, for winking at small faults, and cozening the King and Subjects both at once: for though the pretence of his profession be for the fulfilling of the Statutes yet his Roguish mystery aims at his own ends. He transforms himself into several shapes to avoid suspicion of Inn-holders', and inwardly joys at the sight of a black Pot or jug, knowing that their sale by sealed quarts, spoils his Market, and abates his mercenary Cozenage. As he is an Informer, so he should be a Reformer, but for his quarterly fees from Tap-houses, for connivance; which fees, are the cause of so much froth in the Tapster to recover that again of which he was cheated. He sneak's like a Sergeant into every corner to take advantage, and drinks up men's drink, and makes them pay for it. As he loves no man, so he is hated of all, and is very near hell when he is drunk in the Cellar. He is the scum of Rascality, and the abuser of the King and his Exchequer both together; yet he seldom thrives in his impostures, in regard of his greater sharers, whose vassal and slave he is. All men behold him with indignation, and point him out knave in every Parish, which he willingly puts up, in hope, one day, to avenge himself upon their purses. His gain is extortion, which may in time pull both his ears from his head, or dig him a grave under the Gallows, which he hath already deserved. 34. A Bachelor. IS one that carries a great burden about him, Concupiscence; to which he is either given over, or in perpetual combat betwixt the flesh and the spirit; He is never quiet in his mind, for he is continually choosing, and commonly assoon dislikes his own choice: a great point of folly in him to be provoked to any thing either by opinion or purblind Passion. He is one whose honesty cannot shelter him from suspicion, and imputation of his next neighbour, by reason of his supposed vigour. He dreams away his best time, and sows his seed in other men's gardens, (which they reap and are no gainers by it) whilst he hath scarce any left to sow in his own. He thinks himself happy in that he hath none to care for but himself, whilst he cares not at all for his Nobler self, his Soul, and dies without Vine to his house side, or an Olive plant to his Table, so that posterity shall not behold any of his Progeny. He courts each handsome object, his veins being full of Venus, and his heart of Cupid's darts, which in short time so sting him, that happily ere long, he salutes Hymen, and proves an honest man: for the obtaining whereof in his former estate he was far out of his way, except made an Eunuch, and consequently been hated by the softer Sex for ever after. 35 An under-sheriff. IS an active fellow, begot by the Statute for a year, and then his Name extinguisheth, though he be sharer in another's, the next year after. He is the fear and terror of all debtors, as also the free entertainer of the Creditor, who daily solicits him with coin, to be expeditious in his Catching, which he discreetly entertains with protestation of performance, whilst a fee on the contrary forceth him to neglect, knowing that though delays prove dangerous, yet all makes for his advantage in the end. He is the birth, life, and death of the Law. The birth is the first process; the life the execution, and the death the stopping the breath of the execution, by giving notice to those that never requite him with nothing. He is one subject to much danger, and aught to have both wit and valour, the one to defend his purse, the other his carcase, lest the Exchequer cut the one, and the Country Rebel the other. He understands more than the high Sheriff his Master, and may well, for he buys his wit of him (which is ever the best) and sells it again at a triple value, proving a great gainer, if his Quietus est doth not too much gripe him. He is outwardly respected more for fear than love, and as little esteemed when he is out of his office, which will be next Michaelmas Term, and then you may trade with him for ten groats (an Attorneys fee) his Collateral profession. 36. A Drawer. IS one deeply read in the mysteries of the Cellar, diving into the secrets of Hogsheads, and is much conversant in the mingling of his ware. He is of such celerity, that he ascends the Stairs in a moment, and descends them as suddenly, especially when he is thrown down He is one that trusts all comers (for he only cries score it) but he trusts them no further than he sees them, and when their brains and bellies are full, he looks they should empty their purses. He is subject to many ill words, which he as patiently bears, as they are like to do his blows, if they want the Reckoning. He should be very wise by the continual sight of so many several humours, and would be so, but for the fumigation of the Cellar, which elevates his wits, and makes them fly so high, that they sometimes catch a fall. He is always a good fellow, and loves a Gentleman, for that he is sometimes one themselves. He drinks the best drink, which breeds the best blood, the cause he commonly loves a Wench, for he is a man of great trading. I cannot tell whether his Master serves him, or he his Master, but I am sure they cannot well live asunder. He is now casting about for some Merchant's Credit, to set up for himself, that his wife may keep the Bar, to attract Custom, and he leave his journey-worke, and become as free to her, as she may be to others. 37. A good Husband, IS a man who steers all his course in a right line, and weighs all his actions in an equal balance; a very good Mathematician, for he is always within his Compass, but never runs circle so long as to make himself giddy. He cuts out every into a Geometrical proportion to this Rule and estate; nor doth his Sense too much overrule his Reason. He drinks only for thirst, and eats only for hunger, knowing superfluity to be the heir of prodigality, and liberality the daughter of good husbandry, and Medium betwixt two extremes. He is the sole happiness of a good wife, and the torment of a Waster. His children never live to have cause to curse him, nor his servants to accuse him for their want of wages. He seriously views the folly of Profuseness, and is inwardly sorry to see the fall of any. He is not so niggardly as to grudge himself or his friend a good meal, but tastes freely (though temperately) of that God hath lent him, and thinks himself no loser by lending a little to the needy. His moderate diet gives him longer days, and his care in his calling frees him from idleness (the bait of his greatest enemy) for in doing nothing men learn to do ill. He loves not stolen waters, (though ne'er so sweet) but is satisfied with the breasts of his own bedfellow. He educates his children in a Grace cannot want goods. And thus he passeth his pilgrimage with a peaceful Conscience, and leaves the world with all goods men's applause, so that his name dies not with his nature. His tithing in his life time was so true and conscionable, that the Parson preacheth his Funeral praise, and perhaps gives him gratis his burial in the Chancel. 38. A Constant man. IS one who hath limited his Passions, and set certain bounds to his affections, loving still in his course to hold the bridle firm in his hand, lest carelessly letting the reins lose, he either stumbles dangerously, or falls very foul. His actions are solid, not fantastic, and he is very wary of promising any thing that he either thinks or knows he cannot perform; for he still casts beyond chance, knowing a possibility, and seeing a probability before he passeth his protestation. He is one that keeps his mind within him, the reason why he thinks and speaks both together, without any jar between his tongue and his heart. His word is as good as his bond, and his conscience the best debtor. His love (if possible) is without lust or jealousy, fixed on virtue, where it stands firm as a rock. Truth hath bound up his Temples and discretion hath so knit the knot, that he seldom makes his choice so bad as to refuse it, his word so large as to revoke it, or his time so short as to piece it with delays at its period. He must needs be very patiented too, else his constancy could not continue, for impatiency breaks the fence of hope and stability, and lets in despair and levity, a couple of wild that may spoil a well grown field. The wife that possesseth him is happy, for there is sure hold of his word. She finds him at his appointed hour, which debars her of many feats, and she ne'er eats her meat cold, by staying for his coming. He hath wealth enough, if he hath but this one Virtue, for all men believe him, and dare trust him. Time and experience have wrought him into every man's good opinion, and he stands unmoved in all his deal. He hates a liar as a thief, and is the greatest friend where he once professeth. The world is now grown so wild, that few men are of his mind, and fewer women, the cause of so many cuckolds, perjured persons, and dying lovers. 39 A jealous man, IS one so strangely and strongly possessed with the yellow Jaundis, that he thinks all things of yellow colour, which mistake proceeds from the defect of the eye, not the object. He is one whose mind is in a continual labyrinth, the further it goes, the further perplexed; the more it looks, the more tormented, and yet sees nothing, but by imagination, which foolish fancy lies so heavy in his forehead, that he takes it for a horn, though it be but a pimple i'th'flesh. He consumes himself and his wife's reputation both together, by his too often causeless suspicion and thinks a kiss (though before him) a sufficient cause of divorce. He is the scoff of his neighbours, and the bait that causeth many to nibble in jest, that he might vex in good earnest. He commonly dreams of his wife, though never so broad awake and would keep her in a Chest but for fear of picking the lock, which sets the greater edge to her appetite, and the greater madness to his misbelief. His brains are in perpetual agitation, and in his fantafie (being a kind of frenzy) fees so many lose passages in her, and lascivious embraces by his supposed Corrivals, that he's stark mad at last with melancholy musing. He lives in hell upon earth, and is so besotted, that he cannot see when he is well. He is so fare gone in his disease, that all Physicians have given him over, knowing there is but one medicine (amongst all) to cure him of this malady; which is, to see that really acted, which he so steadfastly supposed; which (no doubt) will shortly be effected, to the full recovery of the coxcomb, and the manifestation of his error in s forehead, (an ornament fit for him.) 40. A desperate man, IS one who hath forgot God, the world, the devils his Neighbour and himself, and runs with precipitation into any danger. All his actions are violent, and therefore cannot be permanent. He is a man of no faith at all, the reason he can apprehend no mercy from his Maker, but all Justice. He still goes with Cain's fear about him, whilst he himself makes a trade of murdering; nor scarce touched for't till his fatal, and then it falls so heavy, that he cannot bear it. He is a man of no staidness, for he leaves a Rock to build upon the Sand. Some thinner skulls think him valiant, because he dares stab, or do any sudden mischief: but the Schools deny it, approving valour to be mixed with discretion (which a desperate man altogether wants) besides, valour is virtue, springing from fortitude, but rashness a vice arising from passion. He is one no way fit for any place, either in Church or Commonweal, for he that cannot guide himself, is most unfit to govern others. He is a man of small or no hope, for he is left to himself, and then scarce a man. He doth all things without premeditation, the reason why so many disasters attend the end of his actions, which he commonly feels before he sees. All that know him shun his society, not so much for fear of him, as the law, knowing that his fury will force them to some further inconvenience. He is settled and vested in this villainy, and takes a pride to be talked of for his treachery, and is still glorifying in his own shame. Newgate or a worse place, will shortly take possession of him, if he mend not his manners, for a graceless man is good for nought but a Gallows. FINIS. A true friend, IS a Fountain that cannot be drawn dry, but always affords some fresh and sweet waters to him whose necessities and extremities enforce him to fetch it. He is a man's second self, as dear as a good wife, more dear than a brother, else the wisest King had been mistaken: but our times justify his Proverb true, which he knew before. He is Solamen in miserijs, a Copartner in distresses with you, and inwardly (not feignedly) bear half the burden. Love and you that 'tis a question reciprocally answering each other in affection, and are equally sensible of each others defects or disturbances. He is no Meteor or Comet, no nine day's wonder, or wand'ring Planet but a fixed star, by whose operative influence, his needy is nourished. For he is not composed of words, but actions, always ready at a dead lift, to draw Dun out of the mire. Not only a bare Counsellor to goodness, and so leave you without means of prosecution (the niggardly wisdom of these times) but an assister in the way, and goes on the first mile with you for company, and looks after you in the rest of your journey, if he doth not travel throughout the same. He never aims at any of his own ends in doing courtesies, but doth them freely and quickly; not drownding his good deeds in the dull performance; for, Qui citò dat, bis dat; He that gives timely, gives twice. He's a certain perpetuity, that cannot be lost by nonpayment of Rent, and aught to be loved above fee-simple. He is the pillar of constancy, & the very touchstone of Truth. One that looks upon men with the eye of Religion, and is not rounded in the ear with worldly applause for it. Hypocrisy and vainglory are as fare from his hearths, as the contrary Poles are from each other, for his right hand shall not know what his left hand doth. He is (in these iron days) Rara avis in terra; a black Swan, or a white Crow, as rare as the Phoenix, and such a precious Jewel as the Indies cannot afford his parallel. He is most happy that hath him, and I advise him to make much of him, for he hath great fortune indeed, if he finds a second. FINIS.