FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[8]I cannot forbear to close this admirable character with the beautiful description of a "poure Persone,"riche of holy thought and werk, given by the father of English poetry:—"Benigne he was, and wonder diligent,And in adversite ful patient:And swiche he was ypreved often sithes.Ful loth were him to cursen for his tythes,But rather wolde he yeven out of doute,Unto his poure parishens aboute,Of his offring, and eke of his substance.He coude in litel thing have suffisance.Wide was his parish, and houses fer asonder,But he ne left nought for no rain ne thonder,In sikenesse and in mischief to visiteThe ferrest in his parish, moche and lite,Upon his fete, and in his hand a staf.And though he holy were, and vertuous,He was to sinful men not dispitous,Ne of his speche dangerous ne digne,But in his teching discrete and benigne.To drawen folk to heven, with fairenesse,By good ensample, was his besinesse.He waited after no pompe ne reverence,Ne maked him no spiced conscience,But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve,He taught, but first he folwed it himselve."Chaucer, Prol. to Cant. Tales, v.485.We may surely conclude with a line from the same poem,"A better preest I trowe that nowher non is."

[8]I cannot forbear to close this admirable character with the beautiful description of a "poure Persone,"riche of holy thought and werk, given by the father of English poetry:—"Benigne he was, and wonder diligent,And in adversite ful patient:And swiche he was ypreved often sithes.Ful loth were him to cursen for his tythes,But rather wolde he yeven out of doute,Unto his poure parishens aboute,Of his offring, and eke of his substance.He coude in litel thing have suffisance.Wide was his parish, and houses fer asonder,But he ne left nought for no rain ne thonder,In sikenesse and in mischief to visiteThe ferrest in his parish, moche and lite,Upon his fete, and in his hand a staf.And though he holy were, and vertuous,He was to sinful men not dispitous,Ne of his speche dangerous ne digne,But in his teching discrete and benigne.To drawen folk to heven, with fairenesse,By good ensample, was his besinesse.He waited after no pompe ne reverence,Ne maked him no spiced conscience,But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve,He taught, but first he folwed it himselve."Chaucer, Prol. to Cant. Tales, v.485.

[8]I cannot forbear to close this admirable character with the beautiful description of a "poure Persone,"riche of holy thought and werk, given by the father of English poetry:—

"Benigne he was, and wonder diligent,And in adversite ful patient:And swiche he was ypreved often sithes.Ful loth were him to cursen for his tythes,But rather wolde he yeven out of doute,Unto his poure parishens aboute,Of his offring, and eke of his substance.He coude in litel thing have suffisance.Wide was his parish, and houses fer asonder,But he ne left nought for no rain ne thonder,In sikenesse and in mischief to visiteThe ferrest in his parish, moche and lite,Upon his fete, and in his hand a staf.And though he holy were, and vertuous,He was to sinful men not dispitous,Ne of his speche dangerous ne digne,But in his teching discrete and benigne.To drawen folk to heven, with fairenesse,By good ensample, was his besinesse.He waited after no pompe ne reverence,Ne maked him no spiced conscience,But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve,He taught, but first he folwed it himselve."Chaucer, Prol. to Cant. Tales, v.485.

And though he holy were, and vertuous,He was to sinful men not dispitous,Ne of his speche dangerous ne digne,But in his teching discrete and benigne.To drawen folk to heven, with fairenesse,By good ensample, was his besinesse.

He waited after no pompe ne reverence,Ne maked him no spiced conscience,But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve,He taught, but first he folwed it himselve."

Chaucer, Prol. to Cant. Tales, v.485.

We may surely conclude with a line from the same poem,

"A better preest I trowe that nowher non is."

His practice is some business at bedsides, and his speculation an urinal: he is distinguished from an empiric, by a round velvet cap and doctor's gown, yet no man takesdegrees more superfluously, for he is doctor howsoever. He is sworn to Galen and Hippocrates, as university men to their statutes, though they never saw them; and his discourse is all aphorisms, though his reading be only Alexis of Piedmont,[9]or theRegiment of Health.[10]The best cure he has done, is upon his own purse, which from a lean sickliness he hath made lusty, and in flesh. His learning consists much in reckoning up the hard names of diseases, and the superscriptions of gally-pots in his apothecary's shop, which are ranked in his shelves, and the doctor's memory. He is, indeed, only languaged in diseases, and speaks Greek many times when he knows not. If he have been but a by-stander at some desperate recovery, he is slandered with it though he be guiltless; and this breeds his reputation, and that his practice, for his skill is merely opinion. Of all odours he likes best the smell of urine, and holds Vespasian's[11]rule, that no gain is unsavory.If you send this once to him you must resolve to be sick howsoever, for he will never leave examining your water, till he has shaked it into a disease:[12]then follows a writ to his drugger in a strange tongue, which he understands, though he cannot conster. If he see you himself, his presence is the worst visitation: for if he cannot heal your sickness, he will be sure to help it. He translates his apothecary's shop into your chamber, and the very windows and benches must take physic. He tells you your malady in Greek, though it be but a cold, or headach; which by good endeavour and diligence he may bring to some moment indeed. His most unfaithful act is, that he leaves a man gasping, and his pretence is, death and he have a quarrel and must not meet; buthis fear is, lest the carkass should bleed.[13]Anatomies, and other spectacles of mortality, have hardened him, and he is no more struck with a funeral than a grave-maker. Noble-men use him for a director of their stomach, and ladies for wantonness,[14]especially if he be a proper man.[15]If he be single, he is in league with his she-apothecary; and because it is the physician, the husband is patient. If he have leisure to be idle (that is to study,) he has a smatch at alcumy, and is sick ofthe philosopher's stone; a disease uncurable, but by an abundant phlebotomy of the purse. His two main opposites are a mountebank and a good woman, and he never shews his learning so much as in an invective against them and their boxes. In conclusion, he is a sucking consumption, and a very brother to the worms, for they are both engendered out of man's corruption.

FOOTNOTES:[9]The secretes of the reverende maister Alexis of Piemount, containyng excellente remedies against diuers diseases, &c. appear to have been a very favourite study either with the physicians, or their patients, about this period.They were originally written in Italian, and were translated into English by William Warde, of which editions were printed at London, in 1558, 1562, 1595, and 1615. In 1603, afourthedition of a Latin version appeared at Basil; and from Ward's dedication to "the lorde Russell, erle of Bedford," it seems that the French and Dutch were not without so great a treasure in their own languages. A specimen of the importance of this publication may be given in the title of the first secret. "The maner and secrete to conserue a man's youth, and to holde back olde age, to maintaine a man always in helth and strength, as in the fayrest floure of his yeres."[10]The Regiment of Helthe, by Thomas Paynell, is another volume of the same description, and was printed by Thomas Berthelette, in 1541. 4to.[11]Vespatian, tenth emperor of Rome, imposed a tax upon urine, and when his son Titus remonstrated with him on the meanness of the act, "Pecuniam," says Suetonius, "ex prima pensione admovit ad nares, suscitansnum odore offenderetur? et illo negante, atqui, inquit, e lotio est."[12]"Vpon the market-day he is much haunted with vrinals, where, if he finde any thing, (though he knowe nothing,) yet hee will say some-what, which if it hit to some purpose, with a fewe fustian words, hee will seeme a piece of strange stuffe." Character of an unworthy physician. "The Good and the Badde," by Nicholas Breton. 4to. 1618.[13]That the murdered body bleeds at the approach of the murderer, was, in our author's time, a commonly received opinion. Holinshed affirms that the corps of Henry the Sixth bled as it was carrying for interment; and Sir Kenelm Digby so firmly believed in the truth of the report, that he has endeavoured to explain the reason. It is remarked by Mr. Steevens, in a note toShakspeare, that the opinion seems to be derived from the ancient Swedes, or Northern nations, from whom we descend; as they practised this method of trial in all dubious cases.[14]"Faith, doctor, it is well, thy study is to pleaseThe female sex, and how their corp'rall griefes to ease."Goddard's "Mastif Whelp." Satires. 4to. Without date. Sat. 17.[15]Properfor handsome.

[9]The secretes of the reverende maister Alexis of Piemount, containyng excellente remedies against diuers diseases, &c. appear to have been a very favourite study either with the physicians, or their patients, about this period.They were originally written in Italian, and were translated into English by William Warde, of which editions were printed at London, in 1558, 1562, 1595, and 1615. In 1603, afourthedition of a Latin version appeared at Basil; and from Ward's dedication to "the lorde Russell, erle of Bedford," it seems that the French and Dutch were not without so great a treasure in their own languages. A specimen of the importance of this publication may be given in the title of the first secret. "The maner and secrete to conserue a man's youth, and to holde back olde age, to maintaine a man always in helth and strength, as in the fayrest floure of his yeres."

They were originally written in Italian, and were translated into English by William Warde, of which editions were printed at London, in 1558, 1562, 1595, and 1615. In 1603, afourthedition of a Latin version appeared at Basil; and from Ward's dedication to "the lorde Russell, erle of Bedford," it seems that the French and Dutch were not without so great a treasure in their own languages. A specimen of the importance of this publication may be given in the title of the first secret. "The maner and secrete to conserue a man's youth, and to holde back olde age, to maintaine a man always in helth and strength, as in the fayrest floure of his yeres."

[10]The Regiment of Helthe, by Thomas Paynell, is another volume of the same description, and was printed by Thomas Berthelette, in 1541. 4to.

[11]Vespatian, tenth emperor of Rome, imposed a tax upon urine, and when his son Titus remonstrated with him on the meanness of the act, "Pecuniam," says Suetonius, "ex prima pensione admovit ad nares, suscitansnum odore offenderetur? et illo negante, atqui, inquit, e lotio est."

[12]"Vpon the market-day he is much haunted with vrinals, where, if he finde any thing, (though he knowe nothing,) yet hee will say some-what, which if it hit to some purpose, with a fewe fustian words, hee will seeme a piece of strange stuffe." Character of an unworthy physician. "The Good and the Badde," by Nicholas Breton. 4to. 1618.

[13]That the murdered body bleeds at the approach of the murderer, was, in our author's time, a commonly received opinion. Holinshed affirms that the corps of Henry the Sixth bled as it was carrying for interment; and Sir Kenelm Digby so firmly believed in the truth of the report, that he has endeavoured to explain the reason. It is remarked by Mr. Steevens, in a note toShakspeare, that the opinion seems to be derived from the ancient Swedes, or Northern nations, from whom we descend; as they practised this method of trial in all dubious cases.

[14]"Faith, doctor, it is well, thy study is to pleaseThe female sex, and how their corp'rall griefes to ease."Goddard's "Mastif Whelp." Satires. 4to. Without date. Sat. 17.

[14]

"Faith, doctor, it is well, thy study is to pleaseThe female sex, and how their corp'rall griefes to ease."

Goddard's "Mastif Whelp." Satires. 4to. Without date. Sat. 17.

[15]Properfor handsome.

He is venerable in his gown, more in his beard, wherewith he sets not forth so much his own, as the face of a city. You must look on him as one of the town gates, and consider him not as a body, but a corporation. His eminency above others hath made him a man of worship, for he had never been preferred, but that he was worth thousands. He over-sees the commonwealth, as his shop, and it is an argument of his policy, that hehas thriven by his craft. He is a rigorous magistrate in his ward; yet his scale of justice is suspected, lest it be like the balances in his warehouse. A ponderous man he is, and substantial, for his weight is commonly extraordinary, and in his preferment nothing rises so much as his belly. His head is of no great depth, yet well furnished; and when it is in conjunction with his brethren, may bring forth a city apophthegm, or some such sage matter. He is one that will not hastily run into error, for he treads with great deliberation, and his judgment consists much in his pace. His discourse is commonly the annals of his mayoralty, and what good government there was in the days of his gold chain, though the door posts were the only things that suffered reformation. He seems most sincerely religious, especially on solemn days; for he comes often to church to make a shew, [and is a part of the quire hangings.] He is the highest stair of his profession, and an example to his trade, what in time they may come to. He makes very much of his authority, but more of his sattindoublet, which, though of good years, bears its age very well, and looks fresh every Sunday: but his scarlet gown is a monument, and lasts from generation to generation.

Is one that is fallen out with the world, and will be revenged on himself. Fortune has denied him in something, and he now takes pet, and will be miserable in spite. The root of his disease is a self-humouring pride, and an accustomed tenderness not to be crossed in his fancy; and the occasion commonly of one of these three, a hard father, a peevish wench, or his ambition thwarted. He considered not the nature of the world till he felt it, and all blows fall on him heavier, because they light not first on his expectation. He has now foregone all but his pride, and is yet vain-glorious in theostentation of his melancholy. His composure of himself is a studied carelessness, with his arms across, and a neglected hanging of his head and cloak; and he is as great an enemy to an hat-band, as fortune. He quarrels at the time and up-starts, and sighs at the neglect of men of parts, that is, such as himself. His life is a perpetual satyr, and he is still girding[16]the age's vanity, when this very anger shews he too much esteems it. He is much displeased to see men merry, and wonders what they can find to laugh at. He never draws his own lips higher than a smile, and frowns wrinkle him before forty. He at last falls into that deadly melancholy to be a bitter hater of men, and is the most apt companion for any mischief. He is the spark that kindles the commonwealth, and the bellows himself to blow it: and if he turn anything, it is commonly one of these, either friar, traitor, or mad-man.

FOOTNOTES:[16]Togird, is to sneer at, or scorn any one. Falstaff says, "men of all sorts take a pride togirdat me."—Henry IV. Part 2.

[16]Togird, is to sneer at, or scorn any one. Falstaff says, "men of all sorts take a pride togirdat me."—Henry IV. Part 2.

He is a man strangly thrifty of time past, and an enemy indeed to his maw, whence he fetches out many things when they are now all rotten and stinking. He is one that hath that unnatural disease to be enamoured of old age and wrinkles, and loves all things (as Dutchmen do cheese,) the better for being mouldy and worm-eaten. He is of our religion, because we say it is most antient; and yet a broken statue would almost make him an idolater. A great admirer he is of the rust of old monuments, and reads only those characters, where time hath eaten out the letters. He will go you forty miles to see a saint's well or a ruined abbey; and there be but a cross or stone foot-stool in the way, he'll be considering it so long, till he forget his journey. His estate consists much in shekels, and Roman coins; and he hath more pictures of Cæsar, than James or Elizabeth.Beggars cozen him with musty things which they have raked from dunghills, and he preserves their rags for precious relicks. He loves no library, but where there are more spiders volumes than authors, and looks with great admiration on the antique work of cobwebs. Printed books he contemns, as a novelty of this latter age, but a manuscript he pores on everlastingly, especially if the cover be all moth-eaten, and the dust make a parenthesis between every syllable. He would give all the books in his study (which are rarities all,) for one of the old Roman binding, or six lines of Tully in his own hand. His chamber is hung commonly with strange beasts skins, and is a kind of charnel-house of bones extraordinary; and his discourse upon them, if you will hear him, shall last longer. His very attire is that which is the eldest out of fashion, [[AW]and you may pick a criticism out of his breeches.] He never looks upon himself till he is grey-haired,and then he is pleased with his own antiquity. His grave does not fright him, for he has been used to sepulchers, and he likes death the better, because it gathers him to his fathers.

FOOTNOTES:[AW]In the first edition it stands thus:—"and his hat is as antient as the tower of Babel."

[AW]In the first edition it stands thus:—"and his hat is as antient as the tower of Babel."

His elder brother was the Esau, that came out first and left him like Jacob at his heels. His father has done with him, as Pharoah to the children of Israel, that would have them make brick and give them no straw, so he tasks him to be a gentleman, and leaves him nothing to maintain it. The pride of his house has undone him, which the elder's knighthood must sustain, and his beggary that knighthood. His birth and bringing up will not suffer him to descend to the means to get wealth; but he stands at the mercy of the world, and which is worse, ofhis brother. He is something better than the serving-men; yet they more saucy with him than he bold with the master, who beholds him with a countenance of stern awe, and checks him oftener than his liveries. His brother's old suits and he are much alike in request, and cast off now and then one to the other. Nature hath furnished him with a little more wit upon compassion, for it is like to be his best revenue. If his annuity stretch so far, he is sent to the university, and with great heart-burning takes upon him the ministry, as a profession he is condemned to by his ill fortune. Others take a more crooked path yet, the king's high-way; where at length their vizard is plucked off, and they strike fair for Tyburn: but their brother's pride, not love, gets them a pardon. His last refuge is the Low-countries,[17]whererags and lice are no scandal, where he lives a poor gentleman of a company, and dies without a shirt. The only thing that may better his fortunes is an art he has to make a gentlewoman, wherewith he baits now and then some rich widow that is hungry after his blood. He is commonly discontented and desperate, and the form of his exclamation is,that churl my brother. He loves not his country for this unnatural custom, and would have long since revolted to the Spaniard, but for Kent[18]only, which he holds in admiration.

FOOTNOTES:[17]The Low-countries appear to have afforded ample room for ridicule at all times. In "A brief Character of the Low-countries under the States, being Three Weeks Observation of the Vices and Virtues of the Inhabitants, written by Owen Felltham, and printed Lond. 1659, 12mo. we find them epitomized as a general sea-land—the great bog of Europe—an universal quagmire—in short a green cheese in pickle. The sailors (in which denomination the author appears to include all the natives,) he describes as being able to "drink, rail, swear, niggle, steal, and belowsiealike. P. 40.[18]Gavelkind, or the practice of dividing lands equally among all the male children of the deceased, was (according to Spelman,) adopted by the Saxons, from Germany, and is noticed by Tacitus in his description of that nation.Gloss. Archaiol.folio. Lond. 1664. Harrison, inThe Description of England, prefixed to Holinshed'sChronicle, (vol. 1. page 180,) says, "Gauell kind is all the male children equallie to inherit, and is continued to this daie inKent, where it is onelie to my knowledge reteined, and no where else in England." And Lambarde, in hisCustomes of Kent, (Perambulation, 4to. 1596, page 538,) thus notices it:—"The custom of Grauelkynde is generall, and spreadeth itselfe throughout the whole shyre, into all landes subiect by auncient tenure vnto the same, such places onely excepted, where it is altered by acte of parleament."

[17]The Low-countries appear to have afforded ample room for ridicule at all times. In "A brief Character of the Low-countries under the States, being Three Weeks Observation of the Vices and Virtues of the Inhabitants, written by Owen Felltham, and printed Lond. 1659, 12mo. we find them epitomized as a general sea-land—the great bog of Europe—an universal quagmire—in short a green cheese in pickle. The sailors (in which denomination the author appears to include all the natives,) he describes as being able to "drink, rail, swear, niggle, steal, and belowsiealike. P. 40.

[18]Gavelkind, or the practice of dividing lands equally among all the male children of the deceased, was (according to Spelman,) adopted by the Saxons, from Germany, and is noticed by Tacitus in his description of that nation.Gloss. Archaiol.folio. Lond. 1664. Harrison, inThe Description of England, prefixed to Holinshed'sChronicle, (vol. 1. page 180,) says, "Gauell kind is all the male children equallie to inherit, and is continued to this daie inKent, where it is onelie to my knowledge reteined, and no where else in England." And Lambarde, in hisCustomes of Kent, (Perambulation, 4to. 1596, page 538,) thus notices it:—"The custom of Grauelkynde is generall, and spreadeth itselfe throughout the whole shyre, into all landes subiect by auncient tenure vnto the same, such places onely excepted, where it is altered by acte of parleament."

Is somewhat more than the shape of a man; for he has his length, breadth, and colour. When you have seen his outside, you have looked through him, and need employ your discovery no farther. His reason is merely example, and his action is not guided by his understanding, but he sees other men do thus, and he follows them. He is a negative, for we cannot call him a wise man, but not a fool; nor an honest man, but not a knave; nor a protestant, but not a papist. The chief burden of his brain is the carriage of his body and the setting of his face in a good frame; which he performs the better, because he is not disjointedwith other meditations. His religion is a good quiet subject, and he prays as he swears, in the phrase of the land. He is a fair guest, and a fair inviter, and can excuse his good cheer in the accustomed apology. He has some faculty in mangling of a rabbit, and the distribution of his morsel to a neighbour's trencher. He apprehends a jest by seeing men smile, and laughs orderly himself, when it comes to his turn. His businesses with his friends are to visit them, and whilst the business is no more, he can perform this well enough. His discourse is the news that he hath gathered in his walk, and for other matters his discretion is, that he will only what he can, that is, say nothing. His life is like one that runs to the[19]church-walk, to take a turn or two, and so passes. He hath staid in the world to fill a number; and when he is gone, there wants one, and there's an end.

FOOTNOTES:[19]Minster-walk, 1st edit.

[19]Minster-walk, 1st edit.

Is one that parts his religion betwixt his conscience and his purse, and comes to church not to serve God but the king. The face of the law makes him wear the mask of the gospel, which he uses not as a means to save his soul, but charges. He loves Popery well, but is loth to lose by it; and though he be something scared with the bulls of Rome, yet they are far off, and he is struck with more terror at the apparitor. Once a month he presents himself at the church, to keep off the church-warden, and brings in his body to save his bail. He kneels with the congregation, but prays by himself, and asks God forgiveness for coming thither. If he be forced to stay out a sermon, he pulls his hat over his eyes, and frowns out the hour; and when he comes home, thinks to make amends for this fault by abusing the preacher. His main policy is to shift off the communion, for which he is never unfurnished of a quarrel, and will be sure to be out of charity at Easter;and indeed he lies not, for he has a quarrel to the sacrament. He would make a bad martyr and good traveller, for his conscience is so large he could never wander out of it; and in Constantinople would be circumcised with a reservation. His wife is more zealous and therefore more costly, and he bates her in tires[20]what she stands him in religion. But we leave him hatching plots against the state, and expecting Spinola.[21]

FOOTNOTES:[20]The wordtireis probably here used as an abbreviation of the wordattire, dress, ornament.[21]Ambrose Spinolawas one of the most celebrated and excellent commanders that Spain ever possessed: he was born, in 1569, of a noble family, and distinguished himself through life in being opposed to prince Maurice of Nassau, the greatest general of his age, by whom he was ever regarded with admiration and respect. He died in 1630, owing to a disadvantage sustained by his troops at the siege of Cassel, which was to be entirely attributed to the imprudent orders he received from Spain, and which that government compelled him to obey. This disaster broke his heart; and he died with the exclamation of "they have robbed me of my honour;" an idea he was unable to survive. It is probable that, at the time this character was composed, many of the disaffected in England were in expectation of an attack to be made on this country by the Spaniards, under the command of Spinola.

[20]The wordtireis probably here used as an abbreviation of the wordattire, dress, ornament.

[21]Ambrose Spinolawas one of the most celebrated and excellent commanders that Spain ever possessed: he was born, in 1569, of a noble family, and distinguished himself through life in being opposed to prince Maurice of Nassau, the greatest general of his age, by whom he was ever regarded with admiration and respect. He died in 1630, owing to a disadvantage sustained by his troops at the siege of Cassel, which was to be entirely attributed to the imprudent orders he received from Spain, and which that government compelled him to obey. This disaster broke his heart; and he died with the exclamation of "they have robbed me of my honour;" an idea he was unable to survive. It is probable that, at the time this character was composed, many of the disaffected in England were in expectation of an attack to be made on this country by the Spaniards, under the command of Spinola.

Is one that knows himself so well, that he does not know himself. Two excellent well-dones have undone him, and he is guilty of it that first commended him to madness. He is now become his own book, which he pores on continually, yet like a truant reader skips over the harsh places, and surveys only that which is pleasant. In the speculation of his own good parts, his eyes, like a drunkard's, see all double, and his fancy, like an old man's spectacles, make a great letter in a small print. He imagines every place where he comes his theater, and not a look stirring but his spectator; and conceives men's thoughts to be very idle, that is, [only] busy about him. His walk is still in the fashion of a march, and like his opinion unaccompanied, with his eyes most fixed upon his own person, or on others with reflection to himself. If he have done any thing that has past with applause, he is always re-acting italone, and conceits the extasy his hearers were in at every period. His discourse is all positions and definitive decrees, withthus it must beandthus it is, and he will not humble his authority to prove it. His tenent is always singular and aloof from the vulgar as he can, from which you must not hope to wrest him. He has an excellent humour for an heretick, and in these days made the first Arminian. He prefers Ramus before Aristotle, and Paracelsus before Galen,[22][and whosoever with most paradox is commended.] He much pities the world that has no more insight in his parts, when he is too well discovered even to this very thought. A flatterer is a dunce to him, for he can tell him nothing but what he knows before: and yet he loves him too, because he is like himself. Men are merciful to him, and let him alone, for if he be once driven from his humour, he is like two inward friends fallen out: his own bitter enemy anddiscontent presently makes a murder. In sum, he is a bladder blown up with wind, which the least flaw crushes to nothing.

FOOTNOTES:[22]and Lipsius his hopping stile before either Tully or Quintilian.First edit.

[22]and Lipsius his hopping stile before either Tully or Quintilian.First edit.

Is one that is a fool with discretion, or a strange piece of politician, that manages the state of himself. His actions are his privy-council, wherein no man must partake beside. He speaks under rule and prescription, and dare not shew his teeth without Machiavel. He converses with his neighbours as he would in Spain, and fears an inquisitive man as much as the inquisition. He suspects all questions for examinations, and thinks you would pick something out of him, and avoids you. His breast is like a gentlewoman's closet, which locks up every toy or trifle, or some bragging mountebank that makes every stinking thing a secret.He delivers you common matters with great conjuration of silence, and whispers you in the ear acts of parliament. You may as soon wrest a tooth from him as a paper, and whatsoever he reads is letters. He dares not talk of great men for fear of bad comments, andhe knows not how his words may be misapplied. Ask his opinion, and he tells you his doubt; and he never hears any thing more astonishedly than what he knows before. His words are like the cards at primivist,[23]where 6 is 18, and 7, 21; forthey never signify what they sound; but if he tell you he will do a thing, it is as much as if he swore he would not. He is one, indeed, that takes all men to be craftier than they are, and puts himself to a great deal of affliction to hinder their plots and designs, where they mean freely. He has been long a riddle himself, but at last finds Œdipuses; for his over-acted dissimulation discovers him, and men do with him as they would with Hebrew letters, spell him backwards and read him.

FOOTNOTES:[23]Primivistand primero were, in all probability, the same game, although Minshew, in his Dictionary, calls them "two games at cardes." The latter he explains "primum et primum visum, that is, first and first seene, because hee that can shew such an order of cardes, first winnes the game." The coincidence between Mr. Strutt's description of the former and the passage in the text, shews that there could be little or no difference between the value of the cards in these games, or in the manner of playing them. "Each player has four cards dealt to him, one by one, thesevenwas the highest card, in point of number, that he could avail himself of,which counted for twenty-one, the sixcounted for sixteen, the five for fifteen, and the ace for the same," &c. (Sports and Pastimes, 247.) The honourable Daines Barrington conceived that Primero was introduced by Philip the Second, or some of his suite, whilst in England. Shakspeare proves that it was played in the royal circle.——"I left him (Henry VIII.) atPrimeroWith the duke of Suffolk."——Henry VIII.So Decker: "Talke of none but lords and such ladies with whom you have plaid atPrimero."—Gul's Hornebooke, 1609. 37.Among the marquis of Worcester's celebrated "Century of Inventions," 12mo. 1663, is one "so contrived without suspicion, that playing at Primero at cards, one may, without clogging his memory, keep reckoning of all sixes, sevens, and aces, which he hath discarded."—No. 87.

[23]Primivistand primero were, in all probability, the same game, although Minshew, in his Dictionary, calls them "two games at cardes." The latter he explains "primum et primum visum, that is, first and first seene, because hee that can shew such an order of cardes, first winnes the game." The coincidence between Mr. Strutt's description of the former and the passage in the text, shews that there could be little or no difference between the value of the cards in these games, or in the manner of playing them. "Each player has four cards dealt to him, one by one, thesevenwas the highest card, in point of number, that he could avail himself of,which counted for twenty-one, the sixcounted for sixteen, the five for fifteen, and the ace for the same," &c. (Sports and Pastimes, 247.) The honourable Daines Barrington conceived that Primero was introduced by Philip the Second, or some of his suite, whilst in England. Shakspeare proves that it was played in the royal circle.——"I left him (Henry VIII.) atPrimeroWith the duke of Suffolk."——Henry VIII.So Decker: "Talke of none but lords and such ladies with whom you have plaid atPrimero."—Gul's Hornebooke, 1609. 37.Among the marquis of Worcester's celebrated "Century of Inventions," 12mo. 1663, is one "so contrived without suspicion, that playing at Primero at cards, one may, without clogging his memory, keep reckoning of all sixes, sevens, and aces, which he hath discarded."—No. 87.

——"I left him (Henry VIII.) atPrimeroWith the duke of Suffolk."——Henry VIII.

So Decker: "Talke of none but lords and such ladies with whom you have plaid atPrimero."—Gul's Hornebooke, 1609. 37.

Among the marquis of Worcester's celebrated "Century of Inventions," 12mo. 1663, is one "so contrived without suspicion, that playing at Primero at cards, one may, without clogging his memory, keep reckoning of all sixes, sevens, and aces, which he hath discarded."—No. 87.

Is a degree, or (if you will,) a pair of stairs above an ale-house, where men are drunk with more credit and apology. If the vintner's nose[24]be at door, it is a sign sufficient, but the absence of this is supplied by the ivy-bush: the rooms are ill breathed like the drinkers that have been washed well over night, and are smelt-to fasting next morning; not furnished with beds apt to be defiled, but more necessary implements, stools, table, and a chamber-pot. It is a broacher of more news than hogsheads, and more jests than news, which are sucked up here by some spongy brain, and from thence squeezed into a comedy. Men come here to make merry, but indeed make a noise, and this musick above isanswered with the clinking below. The drawers are the civilest people in it, men of good bringing up, and howsoever we esteem of them, none can boast more justly of their high calling. 'Tis the best theater of natures, where they are truly acted, not played, and the business as in the rest of the world up and down, to wit, from the bottom of the cellar to the great chamber. A melancholy man would find here matter to work upon, to see heads as brittle as glasses, and often broken; men come hither to quarrel, and come hither to be made friends: and if Plutarch will lend me his simile, it is even Telephus's sword that makes wounds and cures them. It is the common consumption of the afternoon, and the murderer or maker-away of a rainy day. It is the torrid zone that scorchesthe[25]face, and tobacco the gun-powder that blows it up. Much harm would be done, if the charitable vintner had not water ready for these flames. A house of sin you may call it, but not a house ofdarkness, for the candles are never out; and it is like those countries far in the North, where it is as clear at mid-night as at mid-day. After a long sitting, it becomes like a street in a dashing shower, where the spouts are flushing above, and the conduits running below, while the Jordans like swelling rivers overflow their banks. To give you the total reckoning of it; it is the busy man's recreation, the idle man's business, the melancholy man's sanctuary, the stranger's welcome, the inns-of-court man's entertainment, the scholar's kindness, and the citizen's courtesy. It is the study of sparkling wits, and a cup of canary[26]their book, whence we leave them.

FOOTNOTES:[24]"Enquire out those tauernes which are best customd, whose maistres are oftenest drunk, for that confirmes their taste, and that they choose wholesome wines."—Decker'sGul's Horne-booke, 1609.[25]his, First edit.[26]The editor of the edition in 1732, has alteredcanaryto "sherry" for what reason I am at a loss to discover, and have consequently restored the reading of the first edition. Venner gives the following description of this favourite liquor. "Canarie-wine, which beareth the name of the islands from whence it is brought, is of some termed a sacke, with this adjunct, sweete; but yet very improperly, for it differeth not only from sacke in sweetness and pleasantness of taste, but also in colour and consistence, for it is not so white in colour as sack, nor so thin in substance; wherefore it is more nutritive than sack, and less penetrative."Via recta ad Vitam longum.4to. 1622. In Howell's time, Canary wine was much adulterated. "I think," says he, in one of hisLetters, "there is more Canary brought into England than to all the world besides; I think also, there is a hundred times more drunk under the name of Canary wine, than there is brought in; for Sherries and Malagas, well mingled, pass for Canaries in most taverns. When Sacks and Canaries," he continues, "were brought in first amongst us, they were used to be drunk in aqua vitæ measures, and 'twas held fit only for those to drink who were used tocarry their legs in their hands,their eyes upon their noses, and analmanack in their bones; but now they go down every one's throat, both young and old, like milk." Howell,Letter to the lord Cliff, dated Oct. 7, 1634.

[24]"Enquire out those tauernes which are best customd, whose maistres are oftenest drunk, for that confirmes their taste, and that they choose wholesome wines."—Decker'sGul's Horne-booke, 1609.

[25]his, First edit.

[26]The editor of the edition in 1732, has alteredcanaryto "sherry" for what reason I am at a loss to discover, and have consequently restored the reading of the first edition. Venner gives the following description of this favourite liquor. "Canarie-wine, which beareth the name of the islands from whence it is brought, is of some termed a sacke, with this adjunct, sweete; but yet very improperly, for it differeth not only from sacke in sweetness and pleasantness of taste, but also in colour and consistence, for it is not so white in colour as sack, nor so thin in substance; wherefore it is more nutritive than sack, and less penetrative."Via recta ad Vitam longum.4to. 1622. In Howell's time, Canary wine was much adulterated. "I think," says he, in one of hisLetters, "there is more Canary brought into England than to all the world besides; I think also, there is a hundred times more drunk under the name of Canary wine, than there is brought in; for Sherries and Malagas, well mingled, pass for Canaries in most taverns. When Sacks and Canaries," he continues, "were brought in first amongst us, they were used to be drunk in aqua vitæ measures, and 'twas held fit only for those to drink who were used tocarry their legs in their hands,their eyes upon their noses, and analmanack in their bones; but now they go down every one's throat, both young and old, like milk." Howell,Letter to the lord Cliff, dated Oct. 7, 1634.

Is one whom all other means have failed, and he now lives of himself. He is some needy cashiered fellow, whom the world hath oft flung off, yet still clasps again, and is like one a drowning, fastens upon anything that is next at hand. Amongst other of his shipwrecks he has happily lost shame, andthis want supplies him. No man puts his brain to more use than he, for his life is a daily invention, and each meal a new stratagem. He has an excellent memory for his acquaintance, though there passed buthow do youbetwixt them seven years ago, it shall suffice for an embrace, and that for money. He offers you a pottle of sack out of joy to see you, and in requital of his courtesy you can do no less than pay for it. He is fumbling with his purse-strings, as a school-boy with his points, when he is going to be whipped, 'till the master, weary with long stay, forgives him. When the reckoning is paid, he says, It must not be so, yet is strait pacified, and cries, What remedy? His borrowings are like subsidies, each man a shilling or two, as he can well dispend; which they lend him, not with a hope to be repaid, but that he will come no more. He holds a strange tyrrany over men, for he is their debtor, and they fear him as a creditor. He is proud of any employment, though it be but to carry commendations, which he willbe sure to deliver at eleven of the clock.[27]They in courtesy bid him stay, and he in manners cannot deny them. If he find but a good look to assure his welcome, he becomes their half-boarder, and haunts the threshold so long 'till he forces good nature to the necessity of a quarrel. Publick invitations he will not wrong with his absence, and is the best witness of the sheriff's hospitality.[28]Men shun him at length as they would do an infection, and he is never crossed in his wayif there be but a lane to escape him. He has done with the age as his clothes to him, hung on as long as he could, and at last drops off.

FOOTNOTES:[27]We learn from Harrison'sDescription of England, prefixed to Holinshed, thateleven o'clockwas the usual time for dinner during the reign of Elizabeth. "With vs the nobilitie, gentrie, and students, doo ordinarilie go to dinner ateleuen before noone, and to supper at fiue, or between fiue and six at afternoon." (vol. i. page 171. edit. 1587.) The alteration in manners at this time is rather singularly evinced, from a passage immediately following the above quotation, where we find thatmerchantsandhusbandmendined and supped at alater hour than the nobility.[28]Alluding to the public dinners given by the sheriff at particular seasons of the year. So inThe Widow, a comedy, 4to. 1652."And as at asheriff's table, O blest custome!A poor indebted gentleman may dine,Feed well, and without fear, and depart so."

[27]We learn from Harrison'sDescription of England, prefixed to Holinshed, thateleven o'clockwas the usual time for dinner during the reign of Elizabeth. "With vs the nobilitie, gentrie, and students, doo ordinarilie go to dinner ateleuen before noone, and to supper at fiue, or between fiue and six at afternoon." (vol. i. page 171. edit. 1587.) The alteration in manners at this time is rather singularly evinced, from a passage immediately following the above quotation, where we find thatmerchantsandhusbandmendined and supped at alater hour than the nobility.

[28]Alluding to the public dinners given by the sheriff at particular seasons of the year. So inThe Widow, a comedy, 4to. 1652."And as at asheriff's table, O blest custome!A poor indebted gentleman may dine,Feed well, and without fear, and depart so."

[28]Alluding to the public dinners given by the sheriff at particular seasons of the year. So inThe Widow, a comedy, 4to. 1652.

"And as at asheriff's table, O blest custome!A poor indebted gentleman may dine,Feed well, and without fear, and depart so."

Is his own hackney-man; for he lets himself out to travel as well as his horses. He is the ordinary embassador between friend and friend, the father and the son, and brings rich presents to the one, but never returns any back again. He is no unlettered man, though in shew simple; for questionless, he has much in his budget, which he can utter too in fit time and place. He is [like] the vault[29]in Gloster church,that conveys whispers at a distance, for he takes the sound out of your mouth at York, and makes it be heard as far as London. He is the young student's joy and expectation, and the most accepted guest, to whom they lend a willing hand to discharge him of his burden. His first greeting is commonly,Your friends are well; [and to prove it][30]in a piece of gold delivers their blessing. You would think him a churlish blunt fellow, but they find in him many tokens of humanity. He is a great afflicter of the high-ways, andbeats them out of measure; which injury is sometimes revenged by the purse-taker, and then the voyage miscarries. No man domineers more in his inn, nor calls his host unreverently with more presumption, and this arrogance proceeds out of the strength of his horses. He forgets not his load where he takes his ease, for he is drunk commonly before he goes to bed. He is like the prodigal child, still packing away and still returning again. But let him pass.

FOOTNOTES:[29]The chapel of the Virgin Mary, in the cathedral church of Gloucester, was founded by Richard Stanley, abbot, in 1457, and finished by William Farley, a monk of the monastery, in 1472. Sir Robert Atkyns gives the following description of the vault here alluded to. "Thewhispering placeis very remarkable; it is a long alley, from one side of the choir to the other, built circular, that it might not darken the great east window of the choir. When a person whispers at one end of the alley, his voice is heard distinctly at the other end, though the passage be open in the middle, having large spaces for doors and windows on the east side. It may be imputed to the close cement of the wall, which makes it as one entire stone, and so conveys the voice, as a long piece of timber does convey the least stroak to the other end. Others assign it to the repercussion of the voice from accidental angles."Atkyns' Ancient and Present State of Glostershire. Lond. 1712, folio, page 128.See alsoFuller's Worthies, in Gloucestershire, page 351.[30]Then in a piece of gold, &c. first edit.

[29]The chapel of the Virgin Mary, in the cathedral church of Gloucester, was founded by Richard Stanley, abbot, in 1457, and finished by William Farley, a monk of the monastery, in 1472. Sir Robert Atkyns gives the following description of the vault here alluded to. "Thewhispering placeis very remarkable; it is a long alley, from one side of the choir to the other, built circular, that it might not darken the great east window of the choir. When a person whispers at one end of the alley, his voice is heard distinctly at the other end, though the passage be open in the middle, having large spaces for doors and windows on the east side. It may be imputed to the close cement of the wall, which makes it as one entire stone, and so conveys the voice, as a long piece of timber does convey the least stroak to the other end. Others assign it to the repercussion of the voice from accidental angles."Atkyns' Ancient and Present State of Glostershire. Lond. 1712, folio, page 128.See alsoFuller's Worthies, in Gloucestershire, page 351.

[30]Then in a piece of gold, &c. first edit.

He is now out of nature's protection, though not yet able to guide himself; but left loose to the world and fortune, from which the weakness of his childhood preserved him; and now his strength exposes him. He is, indeed, just of age to be miserable, yet in his own conceit first beginsto be happy; and he is happier in this imagination, and his misery not felt is less. He sees yet but the outside of the world and men, and conceives them, according to their appearing, glister, and out of this ignorance believes them. He pursues all vanities for happiness, and[31][enjoys them best in this fancy.] His reason serves, not to curb but understand his appetite, and prosecute the motions thereof with a more eager earnestness. Himself is his own temptation, and needs not Satan, and the world will come hereafter. He leaves repentance for grey hairs, and performs it in being covetous. He is mingled with the vices of the age as the fashion and custom, with which he longs to be acquainted, and sins to better his understanding. He conceives his youth as the season of his lust, and the hour wherein he ought to be bad; and because he would not lose his time, spends it. He distastes religion as a sad thing, and is six years elder for a thought of heaven. He scorns and fears,and yet hopes for old age, but dare not imagine it with wrinkles. He loves and hates with the same inflammation, and when the heat is over is cool alike to friends and enemies. His friendship is seldom so stedfast, but that lust, drink, or anger may overturn it. He offers you his blood to-day in kindness, and is ready to take yours to-morrow. He does seldom any thing which he wishes not to do again, and is only wise after a misfortune. He suffers much for his knowledge, and a great deal of folly it is makes him a wise man. He is free from many vices, by being not grown to the performance, and is only more virtuous out of weakness. Every action is his danger, and every man his ambush. He is a ship without pilot or tackling, and only good fortune may steer him. If he scape this age, he has scaped a tempest, and may live to be a man.

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