pleaseth the children of great men, and promiseth to adopt them; and his courtesie extends it selfe even to the stable. He straines to talke wisely, and his modesty would serve a bride. He is gravity from the head to the foot; but not from the head to the heart: you may find what place he affecteth, for he creeps as neere it as may be, and as passionately courts it; if at any time his hopes are affected, he swelleth with them; and they burst out too good for the vessell. In a word, he danceth to the tune of fortune, and studies for nothing but to keepe time.

An Amorist

S a man blasted or planet-strooken, and is the dogge that leads blind Cupid; when he is at the best, his fashion exceeds the worth of his weight. He is never without verses and musk comfects, and sighs to the hazzard of his buttons; his eyes are all white, either to weare the livery of his mistris complexion, or to keep Cupid from hitting the blacke. He fights with passion, and loseth much of his bloud by his weapon; dreames, thence his palenesse. His armes are carelesly used, as if their best use was nothing but embracements. He is untrust, unbutton'd and ungartered, not out of carelesnesse, but care; his far

thest end being but going to bed. Some times he wraps his petition in neatnesse, but he goeth not alone; for then he makes some other quality moralize his affection, and his trimnesse is the grace of that grace. Her favour lifts him up, as the sun moisture; when she disfavours, unable to hold that happinesse, it falles downe in teares; his fingers are his orators, and hee expresseth much of himselfe upon some instrument. He answers not, or not to the purpose; and no marvell, for he is not at home. Hee scotcheth time with dancing with his mistris, taking up of her glove, and wearing her feather; he is confin'd to her colour, and dares not passe out of the circuit of her memory. His imagination is a foole, and it goeth in a pyde-coat of red and white: shortly, he is translated out of a man into folly; his imagination is the glasse of lust, and himselfe the traitor to his owne discretion.

An Affectate Traveller

S a speaking fashion; hee hath taken paines to be ridiculous, and hath seen

more then he hath perceived. His attire speakes French or Italian, and his gate cries, Behold

me.

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He censures all things by countenances, and shrugs, and speakes his own language with shame and lisping: he will choake, rather than confesse beere good drinke; and his pick-tooth is a maine

part of his behaviour. He chuseth rather to be counted a spie, then not a politician: and maintaines his reputation by naming great men familiarly. Hee chuseth rather to tell lies, then not wonders, and talkes with men singly: his discourse sounds big, but meanes nothing: and his boy is bound to admire him howsoever. He comes still from great personages, but goes with mean. Hee takes occasion to shew jewels given him in regard of his vertue, that were bought in S. Martines: and not long after having with a mountbanks method, pronounced them worth thousands, impawneth them for a few shillings. Upon festivall dayes he goes to court, and salutes without resaluting: at night in an ordinary he canvasseth the businesse in hand, and seems as conversant with all intents and plots as if hee begot them. His extraordinary account of men is, first to tell them the ends of all matters of consequence, and then to borrow money of them; he offereth courtesies, to shew them, rather then himselfe, humble. He disdaines all things above his reach, and preferreth all countries before his owne. He imputeth his want and poverty to the ignorance of the time, not his owne unworthinesse : and concludes his discourse with halfe a period, or a word, and leaves the rest to imagination. In a word, his religion is fashion, and both body and soule are governed by fame: he loves most voyces above truth.

A Wise man

S the truth of the true definition of man, that is, a reasonable creature. His dis

position alters, he alters not. He hides himselfe with the attire of the vulgar; and in indifferent things is content to be governed by them. He lookes according to nature, so goes his behaviour. His mind enjoyes a continuall smoothnesse; so commeth it, that his consideration is alwaies at home. He endures the faults of all men silently, except his friends, and to them hee is the mirrour of their actions; by this meanes, his peace commeth not from fortune, but himselfe. He is cunning in men, not to surprize, but keep his own, and beates off their ill affected humours, no otherwise than if they were flyes. He chuseth not friends by the subsidy-book, and is not luxurious after acquaintance. He maintaines the strength of his body, not by delicates, but temperance and his mind, by giving it preheminence over his body. He understands things, not by their forme, but qualities; and his comparisons intend not to excuse but to provoke him higher. Hee is not subject to casualities; for fortune hath nothing to doe with the mind, except those drowned in the body: but he hath divided his soule from the case of his soule, whose weaknes he assists no otherwise then

commiseratively, not that it is his, but that it is. He is thus, and will bee thus: and lives subject neither to time nor his frailties, the servant of vertue, and by vertue, the friend of the highest.

A Noble Spirit

ATH surveied and fortified his disposition, and converts all occurrents into experi

ence, between which experience and his reason, there is mariage; the issue are his actions. He circuits his intents, and seeth the end before he shoot. Men are the instruments of his art, and there is no man without his use: occasion incites him, none enticeth him: and he mooves by affection, not for affection; he loves glory, scornes shame, and governeth and obeyeth with one countenance; for it comes from one consideration. He cals not the variety of the world chances, for his meditation hath travelled over them; and his eye mounted upon his understanding, seeth them as things underneath. He covers not his body with delicacies, nor excuseth these delicacies by his body, but teacheth it, since it is not able to defend its own imbecility, to shew or suffer. He licenceth not his weaknesse, to weare fate, but knowing reason to be no idle gift of nature, he is the steeresman of his owne destiny. Truth