liberall faculties: but in the tearme time, his clog is a buckrom bag. Lastly, which is great pitty, he never comes to his full growth, with bearing on his shoulder the sinfull burthen of his master at severall courts in Westminster. A Foote-man. He ET him bec never so well made, yet his legs are not matches, for hee is still setting the best foot forward. Hee will never be a staid man, for he has had a running head of his own, ever since his child-hood. His mother (which out of question, was a light-heel'd wench) knew it, yet let him run his race; thinking age would reclaime him from his wild courses. is very long winded; and, without doubt, but that he hates naturally to serve on horse-backe, he had proved an excellent trumpet. He has one happinesse above all the rest of the servingmen: for when he most over-reaches his master, he is best thought of. He lives more by his owne heat then the warmth of clothes; and the waiting-woman hath the greatest fancy to him, when hee is in his close trouses. Gards hee weares none; which makes him live more upright than any crosse-gartered gentleman-usher. "Tis impossible to draw his picture to the life, cause a man must take it as he's running: only this, horses are usually let bloud on S. Stevens day: on S. Patricks he takes rest, and is drencht for all the yeare after. row, A Noble and retired House-keeper His S one whose bounty is limitted by reason, not ostentation: and to make it last, he deales it discreetly, as wce sow the furnot by the sacke, but by the handfull. word and his meaning never shake hands and part, but alway goe together. He can survay good, and love it, and loves to doc it himselfe, for its owne sake, not for thankes. Hee knowes there is no such misery as to outlive good name, nor no such folly as to put it in practice. His mind is so secure, that thunder rockes him asleepe, which breakes other mens slumbers. Nobility lightens in his eyes; and in his face and gesture is painted, The God of Hospitality. His great houses beare in their front more durance, then state; unlesse this adde the greater state to them, that they promise to out-last much of our new phantasticall building. His heart never growes old, no more then his memory: whether at his booke or on horsebacke, hee passeth his time in such noble exercise, a man cannot say, any time is lost by him nor hath he onely yeares, to approve he hath lived till he be old, but vertues. His thoughts have a high aime, though their dwelling bee in the vale of an humble heart, whence as by an engine (that raises water to fall, that it may rise the higher) he is heightned in his humility. The adamant serves not for all seas, but his doth; for he hath, as it were, put a gird about the whole world, and found all her quicke-sands. He hath this hand over Fortune, that her injuries, how violent or sudden soever, they do not daunt him; for whether his time call him to live or die, he can doe both nobly: if to fall, his descent is brest to brest with vertue; and· even then, like the sunne neere his set, hee shewes unto the world his cleerest countenance. An Intruder into favour S one, that builds his reputation on others infamy for slander is most commonly : his morning prayer. His passions are guided by pride, and followed by injustice. An inflexible anger against some poore sutor, he falsly cals a couragious constancie, and thinkes the best part of gravity to consist in a ruffled forehead. He is the most slavishly submisse, though envious to those that are in better place then himselfe; and knowes the art of words so well, that (for shrowding dishonesty under a faire pretext) he seems to preserve mud in chrystall. Like a man of a kind nature, he is the first good to himselfe; in the next file, to his French taylor, that gives him all his perfection: for indeed, like an estridge, or bird of paradise, his feathers are more worth then his body. If ever he doe good deed (which is very seldome) his owne mouth is the chronicle of it, lest it should die forgotten. His whole body goes all upon srewes, and his face is the vice that moves them. If his patron be given to musicke, he opens his chops, and sings, or with a wrie necke, fals to tuning his instrument : if that faile, he takes the height of his lord with a hawking pole. He followes the mans fortune, not the man seeking thereby to increase his owne. He pretends he is most undeservedly envied, and cries out, remembering the game, chesse, that a pawne before a king is most playd on. Debts hec owes none, but shrewd turns, and those he payes ere he be sued. He is a flattering glasse to conceale age, and wrinkles. He is mountaines monkie, that climbing a tree, and skipping from bough to bough, gives you backe his face; but come once to the top, he holds his nose up into the wind, and shewes you his tayle: yet all this gay glitter, shewes on him, as if the sunne shone in a puddle; for he is a small wine that will not last; and when he is falling, hee goes of himselfe faster than misery can drive him. A faire and happy Milk-mayd S a countrey wench, that is so farre from making her selfe beautifull by art, that one looke of hers is able to put all face physiche out of countenance. She knowes a faire looke is but a dumbe orator to commend vertue, therefore minds it not. All her excellencies stand in her so silently, as if they had stolne upon her without her knowledge. The lining of her apparell (which is her selfe) is farre better then out sides of tissew for though she be not arrayed in the spoile of the silke-worme, shee is deckt in innocency, a far better wearing. She doth not, with lying long abed, spoile both her complexion and conditions; naturo hath taught her, too immoderate sleepe is rust to the soule she rises therefore with chaunticleare, her dames cock, and at night makes the lamb her courfew. In milking a cow, and straining the teats through her fingers, it seemes that so sweet a milk-presse makes the milk the whiter or sweeter; for never came almond glove or aromatique oyntment on her palme to taint it. The golden cares of corne fall and kisse her feet when shee reapes them, as if they wisht to be bound and led prisoners by the same hand that fell'd them. Her breath is her own, which sents all the yeare long of June, like a new made |