by a battell. View him at a muster, and he goes with such noise, as if his body were the wheelebarrow that carried his judgement rumbling to drill his souldiers. No man can worse define betweene pride and noble courtesie: he that salutes him not so farre as a pistoll carries levell, gives him the disgust or affront, chuse you whether. Hee traines by the booke, and reckons so many postures of the pike and musket, as if he were counting at noddy. When he comes at first upon a camisado, he lookes like the foure winds in painting, as if hee would blow away the enemy; but at the very first on-set, suffers feare and trembling to dresse themselves in his face apparantly. He scornes any man should take place before him yet at the entring of a breach, he hath been so humble-minded, as to let his lieutenant lead his troopes for him. He is so sure arm'd for taking hurt, that he seldome does any and while he is putting on his armes, he is thinking what summe he can make to satisfie his ransome. He will raile openly against all the great commanders of the adverse party; yet in his owne conscience allowes them for better men: such is the nature of his feare, that contrary to all other filthy qualities it makes him thinke better of another man then himselfe. The first part of him that is set a running, is his eye-sight when that is once struck with terrour, all the costive physicke in the world cannot stay him; if ever he do any thing beyond his owne heart, 'tis for a knighthood, and he is the first kneeles for't without bidding. A Pyrate RULY defined, is a bold traytor; for he fortifies a castle against the king. Give him sea-roome in never so small a vessell, and like a witch in a sieve, you would thinke he were going to make merry with the devill. Of all callings his is the most desperate, for he will not leave off his theeving, though he be in a narrow prison, and looke every day (by tempest or fight) for execution. He is one plague the devill hath added, to make the sea more terrible then a storme; and his heart is so hardned in that rugged element, that hee cannot repent, though he view his grave (before him) continually open: he hath so little of his owne, that the house he sleeps in is stoln; all the necessities of life he filches, but one: he cannot steale a sound sleep, for his troubled conscience. Hee is very gentle to those under him, yet his rule is the horriblest tyranny in the world, for he gives licence to all rape, murder, and cruelty, in his own example: what he gets, is small use to him, onely lives by it, (somewhat the longer) to do a little more service to his belly; for he throwes away his treasure upon the shore in riot, as if he cast it into the sea. He is a cruell hawke that flies at all but his owne kind: and as a whale never comes a-shore but when shee is wounded; so he very seldome, but for his necessities. Hee is the merchants book, that serves only to reckon up his losses; a perpetuall plague to noble traffique, the hurican of the sea, and the earth-quake of the exchange. Yet for all this give him but his pardon, and forgive him restitution, he may live to know the inside. of a church, and die on this side Wapping. An ordinarie Fencer S a fellow, that beside shaving of cudgels, hath a good insight into the world, for hee hath long beene beaten to it. Flesh and bloud he is, like other men; but surely nature meant him stockfish: his, and a dancing-schoole, are inseparable adjuncts; and are bound, though both stinke of sweat most abominable, neither shall complaine of annoyance: three large bavins set up his trade, with a bench, which (in the vacation of the afternoone) he uses for his day-bed for a firkin to pisse in, he shall be allowed that, by those make Allom: when hee comes on the stage at his prize, he makes a legge seven severall wayes, and : scrambles for mony, as if he had beene borne at the The II A Puny-Clarke. EE is tane from grammar-schoole halfe vacation, for that makes him bethinke him how hee |