A WISE MAN.

A wise man is a clock that never strikes but at his home, or rather like a dial that, being set right with the sun, keeps his true course in his compass. So the heart of a wise man, set in the course of virtue by the spirit of grace, runs the course of life in the compass of eternal comfort. He measureth time and tempereth nature, employeth reason and commandeth sense. He hath a deaf ear to the charmer, a close mouth to the slanderer, an open hand to charity, and an humble mind to piety. Observation and experience are his reason's labours, and patience with conscience are the lines of his love's measure; contemplation and meditation are his spirit's exercise, and God and His Word are the joy of his soul. He knows not the pride of prosperity nor the misery of adversity, but takes the one as the day, the other as the night. He knows no fortune, but builds all upon providence, and through the hope of faith hath a fair aim at heaven. His words are weighed with judgment, and his actions are the examples of honour. He is fit for the seat of authority, and deserves the reverence of subjection. He is precious in the counsel of a king, and mighty in the sway of a kingdom. In sum, he is God's servant and the world's master, a stranger upon earth, and a citizen in heaven.

A FOOL.

A fool is the abortive of wit, where nature had more power than reason in bringing forth the fruit of imperfection. His actions are most in extremes, and the scope of his brain is but ignorance. Only nature hath taught him to feed, and use to labour without knowledge. He is a kind of a shadow of a better substance, or like the vision of a dream that yields nothing awake. He is commonly known by one or two special names, derived from their qualities, as from wilful Will-fool, and Hodge from hodge-podge; all meats are alike, all are one to a fool. His exercises are commonly divided into four parts, eating and drinking, sleeping and laughing; four things are his chief loves, a

bauble and a bell, a coxcomb and a pied-coat. He was begotten in unhappiness, born to no goodness, lives but in beastliness, and dies but in forgetfulness. In sum, he is the shame of nature, the trouble of wit, the charge of charity, and the loss of liberality.

AN HONEST Man.

An honest man is like a plain coat, which, without welt or guard, keepeth the body from wind and weather, and being well made, fits him best that wears it; and where the stuff is more regarded than the fashion, there is not much ado in the putting of it on. So the mind of an honest man, without trick or compliments, keeps the credit of a good conscience from the scandal of the world and the worm of iniquity, which, being wrought by the workman of heaven, fits him best that wears it to his service; and where virtue is more esteemed than vanity, it is put on and worn with that ease that shows the excellency of the workman. His study is virtue, his word truth, his life the passage of patience, and his death the rest of his spirit. His travail is a pilgrimage, his way is plainness, his pleasure peace, and his delight is love. His care is his conscience, his wealth is his credit, his charge is his charity, and his content is his kingdom. In sum, he is a diamond among jewels, a phoenix among birds, an unicorn among beasts, and a saint among men.

A KNAVE.

A knave is the scum of wit and the scorn of reason, the hate of wisdom and the dishonour of humanity. He is the danger of society and the hurt of amity, the infection of youth and the corruption of age. He is a traitor to affiance and abuse to employment, and a rule of villainy in a plot of mischief. He hath a cat's eye and a bear's paw, a siren's tongue and a serpent's sting. His words are lies, his oaths perjuries, his studies subtilties, and his practices villainies; his wealth is his wit, his honour is hist wealth, his glory is his gain, and his god is his gold. He is no

man's friend and his own enemy; cursed on earth and banished from heaven. He was begotten ungraciously, born untimely, lives dishonestly, and dies shamefully. His heart is a puddle of poison, his tongue a sting of iniquity, his brain a distiller of deceit, and his conscience a compass of hell. In sum, he is a dog in disposition, a fox in wit, a wolf in his prey, and a devil in his

pride.

AN USURER.

An usurer is a figure of misery, who hath made himself a slave to his money. His eye is closed from pity, and his hand from charity; his ear from compassion, and his heart from piety. While he lives he is the hate of a Christian, and when he dies he goes with horror to hell. His study is sparing, and his care getting; his fear is wanting, and his death is losing. His diet is either fasting or poor fare, his clothing the hangman's wardrobe, his house the receptacle of thievery, and his music the clinking of his money. He is a kind of cancer that with the teeth of interest eats the hearts of the poor, and a venomous fly that sucks out the blood of any flesh that he lights on. In sum, he is a servant of dross, a slave to misery, an agent for hell, and a devil in the world.

A BEGGAR.

ease.

A beggar is the child of idleness, whose life is a resolution of His travail is most in the highways, and his rendezvous is commonly in an ale-house. His study is to counterfeit impotency, and his practice to cozen simplicity of charity. The juice of the malt is the liquor of his life, and at bed and at board a louse is his companion. He fears no such enemy as a constable, and being acquainted with the stocks, must visit them as he goes by them. He is a drone that feeds upon the labours of the bee, and unhappily begotten that is born for no goodness. His staff and his scrip are his walking furniture, and what he lacks in meat he will have out in drink. He is a kind of caterpillar that spoils much good fruit, and an unprofitable creature to live in a

commonwealth. He is seldom handsome and often noisome, always troublesome and never welcome. He prays for all and preys upon all; begins with blessing but ends often with cursing. If he have a licence he shows it with a grace, but if he have none he is submissive to the ground. Sometime he is a thief, but always a rogue, and in the nature of his profession the shame of humanity. In sum, he is commonly begot in a bush, born in a barn, lives in a highway, and dies in a ditch.

A VIRGIN.

A virgin is the beauty of nature, where the spirit gracious makes the creature glorious. She is the love of virtue, the honour of reason, the grace of youth, and the comfort of age. Her study is holiness, her exercise goodness, her grace humility, and her love is charity. Her countenance is modesty, her speech is truth, her wealth grace, and her fame constancy. Her virtue continence, her labour patience, her diet abstinence, and her care conscience. Her conversation heavenly, her meditations angel-like, her prayers devout, and her hopes divine: her parents' joy, her kindred's honour, her country's fame, and her own felicity. She is the blessed of the highest, the praise of the worthiest, the love of the noblest, and the nearest to the best. She is of creatures the rarest, of women the chiefest, of nature the purest, and of wisdom the choicest. Her life is a pilgrimage, her death but a passage, her description a wonder, and her name an honour. In sum, she is the daughter of glory, the mother of grace, the sister of love, and the beloved of life.

A WANTON WOMAN.

A wanton woman is the figure of imperfection; in nature an ape, in quality a wagtail, in countenance a witch, and in condition a kind of devil. Her beck is a net, her word a charm, her look an illusion, and her company a confusion. Her life is the play of idleness, her diet the excess of dainties, her love the change of

vanities, and her exercise the invention of follies. Her pleasures are fancies, her studies fashions, her delight colours, and her wealth her clothes. Her care is to deceive, her comfort her company, her house is vanity, and her bed is ruin. Her discourses are fables, her vows dissimulations, her conceits subtleties, and her contents varieties. She would she knows not what, and spends she cares not what, she spoils she sees not what, and doth she thinks not what. She is youth's plague and age's purgatory, time's abuse and reason's trouble. In sum, she is a spice of madness, a spark of mischief, a touch of poison, and a fear of destruction.

A QUIET WOMAN.

A quiet woman is like a still wind, which neither chills the body nor blows dust in the face. Her patience is a virtue that wins the heart of love, and her wisdom makes her will well worthy regard. She fears God and flieth sin, showeth kindness and loveth peace. Her tongue is tied to discretion, and her heart is the harbour of goodness. She is a comfort of calamity. and in prosperity a companion, a physician in sickness and a musician in help. Her ways are the walk toward heaven, and her guide is the grace of the Almighty. She is her husband's down-bed, where his heart lies at rest, and her children's glass in the notes of her grace; her servants' honour in the keeping of her house, and her neighbours' example in the notes of a good nature. She scorns fortune and loves virtue, and out of thrift gathereth charity. She is a turtle in her love, a lamb in her meekness, a saint in her heart, and an angel in her soul. In sum, she is a jewel unprizeable and a joy unspeakable, a comfort in nature incomparabie, and a wife in the world unmatchable.

AN UNQUILT WOMAN.

An unquiet woman is the misery of man, whose demeanour is not to be described but in extremities. Her voice is the screeching of an owl, her eye the poison of a cockatrice, her hand the

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