A Distaster of the Time

S a winter grashopper all the yeare long

that looks back upon harvest, with a

leane pair of checkes, never sets forward to ineet it: his malice sucks up the greatest part of his owne venome, and therewith impoisoneth himselfe: and this sicknesse rises rather of selfeopinion, or over-great expectation; so in the conceit of his own over-worthinesse, like a coistrell, he strives to fill himselfe with wind, and flies against it. Any mans advancement is the most capitall offence that can be to his malice': yet this envy, like Phalaris Bull, makes that a torment, first for himselfe, he prepared for others : he is a day-bed for the devill to slumber on; his bloud is of a yellowish colour ; like those that have beene bitten by vipers ; and his gaule flowes as thick in him as oyle in a poyson'd stomack. He infects all society, as thunder sowres wine : war or peace, dearth or plenty, makes him equally discontented. And where hee finds no cause to tax the state, he descends to raile against the rate of salt-butter. His wishes are whirlewinds ; which breath’d forth, return into himselfe, and make him a most giddy and tottering vessell. When he is awake, and goes abroad, he doth but walk in his sleep, for his visitation

is directed to none; his business is nothing. He is often dumb-mad, and goes fetter'd in his owne entrailes. Religion is commonly his pretence of discontent, though he can be of all religions; therefore truly of none. Thus by umnaturalizing himselfe, some wonld thinke him a very dangerous fellow to the state, but he is not greatly to be fear'd : for this dejection of his, is only like a rogue that goes on his knees and elbowes in the mire, to further his begging.

A mecre fellow of an Tlouse

XAMINES all mens carriage but his

own; and is so kind-natured to himselfe, he finds fault with all mens but

He weares his apparell much after the fashion ; his meanes will not suffer him come too nigh: they afford him mockvelvet or satinisco; but not without the colleges next leases acquaintance : his inside is of the selfe-same fashion, not rich : but as it reflects from the glasse of selfe-liking, there Cræsus is Irus to him. He is a pedant in shew, though his title be tutor ; and his pupils, in broader phrase, are schoole-boyes. On these he spends the false gallop of his tongue; and with senselesse discourse towes them along, not out of ignorance. He shewes them the rind, conceales the sap: by this meanes he keeps them the longer, him

selfe the better. He hath learnt to cough, and spit, ; and blow his nose at every period, to recover his

memory: and studies chicfely to set his eyes and beard to a new forme of learning. His religion lies in waite for the inclination of his patron ; neither ebs nor flowes, but just standing water, betweene Protestant and Puritane. His dreames are of plurality of benefices and non-residency; and when he rises, acts a long grace to his looking glasse. Against he comes to be some great mans chaplaine, he hath a habit of boldnesse, though a very coward. He speakes swords, figlits, ergo's: his pace on foot is a measure; on horse-back a gallop: for his legs are his owne, though horse and spurres are borrowed. He hath less use then possession of books. He is not so proud, but he will call the meanest author by his name: nor so unskilled in the herauldry of a study, but he knowcs each mans place. So ends that fellowship, and begins another.

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A mecre Pettyfogger

S one of Sampeon's foxes; he sets men

together by the cares, more shamefully

then pillories, and in a long vacation bis sport is to goe a fishing with the penall statutes.

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curses,

He cannot crre before judgment, and then you see
it, only writs of error are the tariers that kcepe his
client undoing somewhat the longer. He is a vestry-
man in his parish, and easily sets his neighbour at
variance with the vicar, when his wicked counsell
on boch sides is like weapons put into mens hands
by a fencer, whereby they get blowes, he money.
His honesty and learning bring him to unler-shrive-
ship, which having twice runne through, he doe's
not feare the lieutenant o'th' shire: nay more, he
feares not God. Cowardise holds him a good com-
monwealths man; his pen is the plough, and parch-

;
ment tlie soyle, whence he reapes both coyne and

HIce is an earthquake, that willingly will
let no ground lye in quiet. Broken titles make him
whole; to have halfe in the county break their bonds,
were the only liberty of conscience. He would wish
(though he be a brownist) no neighbour of his should
pay his tithes duly, if such suits held continuall plea
at Westminster. He cannot away with the reverend
service in our church, because it ends with The
peace of God. He loves blowes extremely, and
hath his chirurgians bill of all rates, from head to
foot, to incense the fury: he would not give away
his yearely beatings for a good pecce of mony. He
makes his will in forme of a law case, full of
quidits, that his friends after his death (if for
nothing else, yet) for the vexation of law, may have

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cause to remember him. And if he thought the ghosts of men did walke againe (as they report in time of popery) sure he would hide some single money in Westminster-hall, that his spirit might haunt there. Only with this, I will pitch him o're the bar, and leave him, that his fingers itch after a bribe, ever since his first practising of court-hand.

An Ingrosser of Corne.

HERE is no vermine in the land like

him, he slanders both heaven and earth

with pretended dearths, when there's no cause of scarcity. His hoording in a deere yeare, is like Erisicthons bowels in Ovid: Quodque urbibus esse ; quodque satis poterat populo, non sufficit uni. Hee prayes daily for more inclosures, and knowes no reason in his religion, why we should call our forefathers dayes the time of ignorance, but ovely because they sold wheate for twelve pence a bushell. He wishes that Danske were at the Moloccos; and had rather be certaine of some forraine invasion, then of the setting up of the stilyard. When his barncs and garners are full (if it be a time of dearth) he will buy halfe a bushell i'th' market to serve his houshold: and winnowes his corne in the night, lest, as the chaffe throwne upon the water,