CHARACTERS.

OF SUNDRY PERSONS.

A Good Woman.

Her

GOOD woman is a comfort, like a man. She lacks of him nothing but heat. Thence is her sweetnesse of disposition, which meets his stoutnesse more pleasingly; so wooll meets iron easier than iron; and turnes resisting into embracing. greatest learning is religion, and her thoughts are on her owne sex, or on men, without casting the difference. Dishonesty never comes neerer than her eares, and then wonder stops it out, and saves vertue the labour. She leaves the neat youth, telling his lushious tales, and puts back the serving-mans putting forward, with a frown: yet her kindnes is free enough to be seen, for it hath no guilt about it: and her mirth is cleare, that you may looke through it,

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into vertue, but not beyond. She hath not behaviour at a certaine, but makes it to her occasion. hath so much knowledge as to love it; and if she have it not at home, she will fetch it, for this sometimes in a pleasant discontent she dares chide her sex, though she use it never the worse. She is much within, and frames outward things to her mind, not her mind to them. Shee weares good clothes, but never better; for shee finds no degree beyond decencie. Shee hath a content of her owne, and so seekes not an husband, but finds him. She is indeed most, but not much of description, for she is direct and one, and hath not the variety of ill. Now she is given fresh and alive to a husband, and she doth nothing more than love him, for she takes him to that purpose. So his good becomes the businesse of her actions, and she doth her selfe kindnesse upon him. After his, her chiefest vertue is a good husband. For shee is hee.

A Very Woman.

VERY woman, is a dow-bakt man, or a she meant well towards man, but fell two bowes short, strength and understanding. Her vertue is the hedge, modesty, that keepes a man from climbing over into her faults.

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Shee simpers as if shee had no teeth but lips and she divides her eyes, and keepes halfe for her selfe, and gives the other to her neat youth. Being set downe, she casts her face into a platforme, which dureth the meale, and is taken away with the voider. Her draught reacheth to good manners, not to thirst, and it is a part of their mystery not to professe hunger; but Nature takes her in private, and stretcheth her upon meat. She is marriageable and foureteene at once; and after she doth not live, but tarry. She reads over her face every morning, and sometimes blots out pale, and writes red. She thinks she is faire, though many times her opinion goes alone, and she loves her glasse, and the Knight of the Sun for lying. Shee is hid away all but her face, and that's hang'd about with toyes and devices, like the signe of a taverne, to draw strangers. If shee shew more, she prevents desire, and by too free giving, leaves no gift. Shee may escape from the serving-man, but not from the chamber-maid. She commits with her eares for certaine: after that she may goe for a maid, but she hath beene lyen with in her understanding. Her philosophy, is a seeming neglect of those, that bee too good for her. She's a younger brother for her portion, but not for her portion for wit, that comes from her in a treble, which is still too big for it; yet her vanity seldome matcheth her, with one of her own degree, for then shee will beget

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another creature a begger; and commonly, if shee marry better she marries worse. She gets much by the simplicity of her sutor, and for a jest, laughs at him without one. Thus she dresses a husband for her selfe, and after takes him for his patience, and the land adjoyning, ye may see it; in a serving-mans fresh napery, and his leg steps into an unknowne stocking. I need not speake of his garters, the tassell shewes it selfe. If she love, she loves not the man, but the beast of him. She is Salomons cruell creature, and a mans walking consumption: every caudle shee gives him, is a purge. Her chiefe commendation is, she brings a man to repentance.

Her Next Part.

ER lightnesse gets her to swim at top of the table, where her wrie little finger bewraies carving; her neighbors at the latter end know they are welcome, and for that purpose she quencheth her thirst. She travels to and among, and so becomes a woman of good entertainment, for all the folly in the country comes in cleane linnen to visit her: she breaks to them her griefe in suger cakes, and receives from their mouths in exchange, many stories that conclude to no purpose. Her eldest son is like her howsoever, and that dis

praiseth him best: her utmost drift is to turne him foole, which commonly she obtaines at the yeares of discretion. She takes a journey sometimes to her neeces house, but never thinkes beyond London. Her devotion is good clothes, they carry her to church, expresse their stuffe and fashion, and are silent; if shee bee more devout, shee lifts up a certain number of eyes, in stead of prayers, and takes the sermon, and measures out a nap by it, just as long. She sends religion afore to sixty, where she never overtakes it, or drives it before her againe: her most necessary instruments are a waiting gentle-woman, and a chamber-maid; she weares her gentle-woman still, but most often leaves the other in her chamber window. She hath a little kennel in her lap, and she smels the sweeter for it. The utmost reach of her providence, is the fatnesse of a capon, and her greatest envy, is the next gentlewomans better

gown.

Her most commendable skill, is to make her husbands fustian beare her velvet. This she doth many times over, and then is delivered to old age, and a chaire, where every body leaves her.