A Distaster of the Time

Sa winter grashopper all the yeare long that looks back upon harvest, with a leane paire of cheekes, never sets forward to meet it: his malice sucks up the greatest part of his owne venome, and therewith impoisoneth himselfe and this sicknesse rises rather of selfe-opinion, 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, returne 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

businesse 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 unnaturalizing himselfe, some would 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 meere fellow of an House

XAMINES all mens carriage but his own; and is so kind-natured to him

selfe, he finds fault with all mens but his owne. 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 Croesus 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, himselfe the better. He hath learnt to cough, and spit, and blow his nose at every period, to recover his memory and studies chiefely 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, fights, 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 lesse 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 knowes each mans place. So ends that fellowship, and begins another.

A meere Pettyfogger

S one of Sampson's foxes; he sets men together by the eares, more shamefully then pillories; and in a long vacation his sport is to goe a fishing with the penall statutes.

K

He cannot erre before judgment, and then you see it, only writs of error are the tariers that keepe his client undoing somewhat the longer. He is a vestryman in his parish, and easily sets his neighbour at variance with the vicar, when his wicked counsell on both sides is like weapons put into mens hands by a fencer, whereby they get blowes, he money. His honesty and learning bring him to under-shriveship, which having thrice runne through, he doe's not feare the lieutenant o'th' shire: nay more, he feares not God. Cowardise holds him a good commonwealths man; his pen is the plough, and parchment the soyle, whence he reapes both coyne and curses. Hee 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 peece of mony. He makes his will in forme of a law case, full of quiddits, that his friends after his death (if for nothing else, yet) for the vexation of law, may have 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 Westminsterhall, 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 onely 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 barnes 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,