Characters of vertues and vices in two bookes: by Ios. Hall.

THE SECOND Booke. Characterismes of Vices.

LONDON, Printed by M. B. for Eleazar Edgar, and S. Macham.

The Prooeme.

I Haue shewed you many faire Vertues: I speak not for them, if their sight can not command affection, let them lose it. They shall please yet better, after you haue troubled your eyes a little with the view of deformities; and by how much more they please, so much more odious, and like them∣selues, shall these deformities

appeare. This light contraries giue to ech other, in the midst of their enmitie, that one makes the other seeme more good, or ill. Perhaps in some of these (which thing I do at once feare, and hate) my stile shall seeme to some lesse graue, more Saty∣ricall; if you finde me not with∣out cause iealous, let it please you to impute it to the nature of those vices, which will not be otherwise handled. The fa∣shions of some euils are besides the odiousnesse, ridiculous; which to repeat, is to seeme bitterlie merrie. I abhorre to make sport with wickednesse, and forbid any laughter heere, but of disdaine. Hypocrisie

shall lead this ring; woorthily, I thinke, because both she com∣meth neerest to Vertue, and is the woorst of Vices.

The Hypocrite.

AN Hypocrite is the worst kinde of plai∣er, by so much as he acts the better part; which hath alwayes two faces, oft times two hearts: That can compose his forhead to sadnesse and grauitie, while hee bids his heart be wanton and carelesse within, and (in the meane time) laughs within himselfe, to think how smoothly he hath couzen∣ed the beholder. In whose si∣lent

face are written the chara∣cters of Religion, which his tongue & gestures pronounce, but his hands recant. That hath a cleane face and garment, with a soule soule; whose mouth be∣lies his heart, and his fingers be∣lie his mouth. Walking early vp into the Citie, he turnes into the great Church, and salutes one of the pillars on one knee, wor∣shipping that God which at home hee cares not for; while his eye is fixed on some win∣dow, on some passenger, and his heart knowes not whither his lips go. Hee rises, and loo∣king about with admiration, complaines of our frozen cha∣ritie, commends the ancient.

At Church hee will euer sit where hee may bee seene best, and in the midst of the Sermon pulles out his Tables in haste, as if he feared to leese that note; when hee writes either his for∣gotten errand, or nothing: then he turnes his bible with a noise, to seeke an omitted quotation; and folds the lease, as if hee had found it; and askes aloud the name of the Preacher, and re∣peats it, whom hee publikelie salutes, thanks, praises, inuites, entertaines with tedious good counsell, with good discourse, if it had come from an honester mouth. Hee can commaund teares, when hee speaks of his youth, indeed because it is past,

not because it was sinfull: him∣selfe is now better, but the times are worse. All other sinnes hee reckons vp with detestation, while hee loues and hides his darling in his bosome. All his speech returnes to himselfe, and euery occurrent drawes in a sto∣rie to his owne praise. When he should giue, he looks about him, and sayes WHO SEES ME? No almes, no prayers fall from him without a witnesse; belike lest God should denie, that hee hath receiued them: and when hee hath done (lest the world should not know it) his owne mouth is his trumpet to pro∣clame it. With the superfluitie of his vsurie, hee builds an Ho∣spitall,

and harbors them whom his extortion hath spoiled; so while hee makes many beggers, he keeps some. Hee turneth all Gnats into Camels, and cares not to vndoe the world for a circumstance. Flesh on a Friday is more abomination to him than his neighbours bed: Hee abhorres more not to vnco∣uer at the name of Iesus, than to sweare by the name of God. When a Rimer reads his Poeme to him, he begges a Copie, and perswades the Presse; there is nothing that hee dislikes in pre∣sence, that in absence hee cen∣sures not. He comes to the sicke bed of his stepmother, & weeps, when hee secretly feares her re∣couerie.

He greets his friend in the street with so cleere a coun∣tenance, so fast a closure, that the other thinks hee reades his heart in his face; and shakes hands with an indefinite inuita∣tion of When will you come? and when his backe is turned, ioyes that he is so well rid of a guest: yet if that guest visit him vnsea∣red, hee counterfeits a smiling welcome, and excuses his chere, when closely he frownes on his wife for too much. He shewes well, and sayes well; and him∣selfe is the worst thing he hath. In briefe, hee is the strangers saint, the neighbors disease, the blotte of goodnesse; a rotten sticke in a darke night, a poppie

in a corne field, an ill tempered candle with a great snuffe, that in going out smelles ill; an An∣gell abroad, a Diuell at home; and worse when an An∣gell, than when a Diuell.

The Characterism of the Busie-Bodie.

HIs estate is too nar∣row for his minde, and therefore hee is faine to make him∣selfe roome in others affaires; yet euer in pretence of loue. No newes can stir but by his doore; neither can he know that, which hee must not tell: What euerie man ventures in Guiana voyage, & what they gained he knowes to a haire. Whether Holland will

haue peace hee knowes, and on what conditions; and with what successe is familiar to him ere it bee concluded. No Post can passe him without a questi∣on, and rather than he will leese the newes, he rides backe with him to appose him of tidings; and then to the next man hee meets, hee supplies the wants of his hasty intelligence, and makes vp a perfect tale; wherewith he so haunteth the patient auditor that after many excuses, hee is faine to indure rather the cen∣sure of his maners in running a∣way, than the tediousnesse of an impertinent discourse. His speech is oft broken off with a succession of long parentheses,

which he euer vowes to fill vp ere the conclusion, and perhaps would effect it, if the others eare were as vnweariable as his tongue. If hee see but two men talke and reade a letter in the street, hee runnes to them, and asks if he may not be partner of that secret relation; and if they denie it, hee offers to tell, since hee may not heare, woonders: and then falles vpon the report of the Scotish Mine, or of the great fish taken vp at Linne, or of the freezing of the Thames; and after many thanks and dis∣missions is hardly intreated si∣lence. Hee vndertakes as much as he performes little: this man will thrust himselfe forward to

be the guide of the way hee knowes not; and calles at his neighbors window, & asks why his seruants are not at worke. The Market hath no commodi∣tie which hee prizeth not, and which the next table shall not heare recited. His tongue like the taile of Sampsons foxes car∣ries fire-brand, and is enough to set the whole field of the world on a flame. Himselfe be∣ginnes table-talke of his neigh∣bour at anothers boord; to whom he beares the first newes, and adiures him to conceale the reporter: whose cholericke an∣swer he returnes to his first host, inlarged with a second edition: so, as it vses to be done in the

fight of vnwilling mastiues, hee claps ech on the side apart, and prouokes them to an eager con∣flict. There can no Act passe without his Comment, which is euer far-fetch't, rash, suspici∣ous, delatorie. His eares are long, and his eyes quicke, but most of all to imperfections, which as he easily sees, so he in∣creases with intermedling. Hee harbours another mans seruant, and amiddes his entertainment asks what fare is vsuall at home, what houres are kept, what talke passeth their meales, what his masters disposition is, what his gouernment, what his guests? And when hee hath by curious inquiries extracted all the iuice

and spirit of hoped intelli∣gence, turnes him off whence he came, and works on a new. Hee hates constancie as an ear-then dulnesse, vnfit for men of spirit: and loues to change his worke and his place; neither yet can hee bee so soone wea∣rie of any place, as euerie place is wearie of him; for as hee sets himselfe on worke, so o∣thers pay him with hatred; and looke how manie maisters hee hath, so manie enemies: nei∣ther is it possible that anie should not hate him, but who know him not. So then hee labours without thanks, talkes without credit, liues without loue, dies without teares, with∣out

pitie; saue that some say it was pitie he died no sooner.

The Superstitious.

SVperstition is God∣lesse religion, de∣uout impietie. The superstitious is fond in obseruation, seruile in feare, he worships God but as he lifts: he giues God what he asks not, more than he askes; and all but what he should giue; and makes more sinnes than the Ten Com∣mandements. This man dares not stirre foorth till his brest be crossed, and his face sprinckled:

if but an hare crosse him the way, he returnes; or if his iour∣ney began vnawares on the dis∣mall day; or if hee stumbled at the threshold. If he see a snake vnkilled, hee feares a mischiefe; if the salt fall towards him, hee lookes pale and red, and is not quiet till one of the waiters haue powred wine on his lappe; and when hee neeseth, thinks them not his friends that vncouer not. In the morning he listens whe∣ther the Crow crieth eeuen or odde, and by that token presa∣ges of the weather. If hee heare but a Rauen croke from the next roofe, hee makes his will, or if a Bittour flie ouer his head by night: but if his troubled

fancie shall second his thoughts with the dreame of a faire Gar∣den, or greene rushes, or the sa∣lutation of a dead friend, hee takes leaue of the world, and sayes he can not liue. Hee will neuer set to Sea but on a Sun∣day; neither euer goes without an Erra Pater in his pocket. Saint Pauls day and Saint Swithunes with the Twelue are his Ora∣cles; which he dares beleeue a∣gainst the Almanacke. When hee lies sicke on his death-bed, no sinne troubles him so much as that he did once eat flesh on a Friday, no repentance can ex∣piate that; the rest need none. There is no dreame of his with∣out an interpretation, without

a prediction; and if the euent answer not his exposition, hee expounds it according to the e∣uent. Euery darke groaue and pictured wall strikes him with an awfull but carnall deuotion. Olde wiues and Starres are his counsellers; his night-spell is his guard, and charmes his Physiti∣ans. He weares Paracelsian Cha∣racters for the tooth-ache, and a little hallowed wax is his An∣tidote for all euils. This man is strangely credulous, and calles impossible things, miraculous: If hee heare that some sacred blocke speakes, moues, weepes, smiles, his bare foot carrie him thither with an offering; and if a danger misse him in the way,

his saint hath the thanks. Some wayes he will not go, & some he dares not; either there are bugs, or hee faineth them; euery lan∣terne is a ghost, & euery noise is of chaines. He knowes not why, but his custome is to goe a little about, and to leaue the crosse stil on the right hand. One euent is enough to make a rule; out of these rules he concludes fashions proper to himselfe; and nothing can turne him out of his owne course. If he haue done his taske hee is safe, it matters not with what affection. Finally, if God would let him be the caruer of his owne obedience, hee could not haue a better subiect, as he is he can not haue a worse.

Characterisme of the Profane.

THe Superstitious hath too manie Gods, the Pro∣phane man hath none at all, vn∣lesse perhaps himselfe bee his owne deitie, and the world his heauen. To matter of religion his heart is a piece of dead flesh, without feeling of loue, of feare, of care, or of paine from the deafe stroakes of a reuenging

conscience. Custome of sinne hath wrought this senslesnesse, which now hath beene so long entertained that it pleades pre∣scription, and knowes not to be altered. This is no sudden euill: we are borne sinfull, but haue made our selues prophane; through manie degrees wee climbe to this height of impie∣tie. At first hee sinned, and ca∣red not; now hee sinneth, and knoweth not. Appetite is his lord, and reason his seruant, and religion his drudge. Sense is the rule of his beleefe; and if pietie may be an aduantage, he can at once counterfeit and deride it. When ought succeedeth to him hee sacrifices to his nets, and

thanks either his fortune or his wit; and will rather make a false God, than acknowledge the true: if contrary, he cries out of destiny, & blames him to whom hee will not bee beholden. His conscience would faine speake with him, but he will not heare it; sets the day, but hee disap∣points it; and when it cries loud for audience, hee drownes the noise with good fellowship. He neuer names God but in his oathes; neuer thinks of him but in extremity; & then he knowes not how to thinke of him, be∣cause he beginnes but then. He quarrels for the hard conditions of his pleasure, for his future damnation; and from himselfe

layes all the fault vpon his ma∣ker; and from his decree fetch∣eth excuses of his wickednesse. The ineuitable necessity of Gods counsell makes him desperately carelesse: so with good food he poisons himselfe. Goodnesse is his Minstrell; neither is anie mirth so cordiall to him as his sport with Gods fooles. Euerie vertue hath his slander, and his iest to laugh it out of fashion: euery vice his colour. His vsu∣allest theme is the boast of his yoong sinnes, which he can still ioy in, tho he can not commit; and (if it may bee) his speech makes him woorse than hee is. Hee can not thinke of death with patience, without terrour,

which he therefore feares worse than hell, because this he is sure of, the other hee but doubts of. Hee comes to Church as to the Theater, sauing that not so wil∣linglie, for companie, for cu∣stome, for recreation, perhaps for sleepe; or to feed his eyes or his eares: as for his soule hee cares no more than if hee had none. He loues none but him∣selfe, and that not enough to seeke his true good; neither cares hee on whom hee treads, that he may rise. His life is full of licence, and his practise of outrage. He is hated of God as much as hee hateth goodnesse, and differs little from a diuell, but that he hath a body.

The Characterism of the Male-content.

HE is neither well full nor fasting; and tho he abound with cō∣plaints, yet nothing dislikes him but the present: for what hee condemned while it was, once past hee magnifies, and striues to recall it out of the iawes of Time. What hee hath hee seeth not, his eyes are so ta∣ken vp with what he wants; and what hee sees hee cares not for,

because hee cares so much for that which is not. When his friend carues him the best mor∣sell, hee murmures that it is an happie feast wherein each one may cut for himselfe. When a present is sent him, he asks Is this all? and What no better? and so accepts it as if hee would haue his friend know how much he is bound to him for vouchsa∣fing to receiue it. It is hard to enterteine him with a proporti∣onable gift. If nothing, he cries out of vnthankfulnesse; if little, that hee is basely regarded; if much, hee exclames of flatterie, and expectation of a large re∣quital. Euery blessing hath som∣what to disparage & distaste it:

Children bring cares, single life is wilde and solitarie; Eminency is enuious, retirednesse obscure; Fasting painfull, satietie vnwel∣die; Religion nicely seuere, li∣bertie is lawlesse; Wealth bur∣densome, mediocrity contemp∣tible: Euerie thing faulteth ei∣ther in too much or too little. This man is euer headstrong, and selfe-willed, neither is he al∣wayes tied to esteeme or pro∣nounce according to reason; some things he must dislike hee knowes not wherefore, but hee likes them not: and other where rather than not censure, he will accuse a man of vertue. Euerie thing hee medleth with, hee ei∣ther findeth imperfect, or ma∣keth

so: neither is there anie thing that soundeth so harsh in his eare as the commendation of another; whereto yet per∣haps he fashionably and coldly assenteth, but with such an af∣ter-clause of exception, as doth more than marre his former al∣lowance: and if hee list not to giue a verball disgrace, yet hee shakes his head and smiles, as if his silence should say, I could and will not. And when himselfe is praised without excesse, hee complaines that such imperfect kindnesse hath not done him right. If but an vnseasonable shower crosse his recreation, he is ready to fall out with heauen, and thinkes hee is wronged if

GOD will not take his times when to raine, when to shine. Hee is a slaue to enuie, and lo∣seth flesh with fretting, not so much at his owne infelicitie, as at others good; neither hath he leasure to ioy in his owne bles∣sings whilest another prospe∣reth. Faine would he see some mutinies, but dare not raise them; and suffers his lawlesse tongue to walke thorow the dangerous paths of conceited alterations, but so as in good maners hee had rather thrust e∣uery man before him when it comes to acting. Nothing but feare keeps him from conspira∣cies, and no man is more cruell when hee is not manicled with

danger. He speaks nothing but Satyres, and libels, and lodgeth no guests in his heart but rebels. The inconstant and hee agree well in their felicity, which both place in change: but heerein they differ; the inconstant man affects that which will be, the male-content commonly that which was. Finally, he is a que∣rulous curre, whom no horse can passe by without barking at; yea, in the deepe silence of night the very moone-shine openeth his clamorous mouth: he is the wheele of a well-couched fire∣worke that flies out on all sides, not without scorching it selfe. Euery eare was long agoe wea∣rie of him, and he is now almost

wearie of himselfe. Giue him but a little respite, and he will die alone; of no other death, than others welfare.

The Vnconstant.

THe inconstant man treads vpō a mouing earth, and keeps no pace. His proceed∣ings are euer headdie and per∣emptorie; for hee hath not the patience to consult with reason, but determines meerelie vpon fancie. No man is so hot in the pursute of what hee liketh; no man sooner wearie. He is fiery in his passions, which yet are not more violent than momen∣tanie:

it is a woonder if his loue or hatred last so many dayes as a wonder. His heart is the Inne of all good motions, wherein if they lodge for a night it is well; by morning they are gone and take no leaue, and if they come that way againe they are enter∣tained as guests, not as friends. At first like another Ecebolius he loued simple trueth, thence di∣uerting his eyes hee fell in loue with idolatrie; those heathenish shrines had neuer any more do∣ting and besotted client, and now of late hee is leapt from Rome to Munster, and is growen to giddie Anabaptisme: what he will be next, as yet he know∣eth not; but ere hee haue Win∣tred

his opinion, it will be ma∣nifest. Hee is good to make an enemie of; ill for a friend; be∣cause as there is no trust in his affection, so no rancour in his displeasure. The multitude of his changed purposes brings with it forgetfulnesse; and not of others more than of himselfe. He sayes, sweares, renounces, because what hee promised hee meant not long enough to make an impression. Heerin alone he is good for a Common-wealth, that hee sets manie on worke, with building, ruining, altering; and makes more businesse than Time it selfe; neither is hee a greater enemie to thrift, than to idlenesse. Proprietie is to him

enough cause of dislike; each thing pleases him better that is not his owne. Euen in the best things long continuance is a iust quarrell; Manna it selfe growes tedious with age, and Noueltie is the highest stile of commendation to the meanest offers: Neither doth he in books and fashions aske How good, but How new. Varietie carries him away with delight, and no vni∣forme pleasure can be without an irksome fulnesse. Hee is so transformable into all opinions, maners, qualities, that he seemes rather made immediatly of the first matter than of well tempe∣red elements; and therefore is in possibilitie any thing, or eue∣rie

thing; nothing in present substance. Finally, he is seruile in imitation, waxey to persuasi∣ons, wittie to wrong himselfe, a guest in his owne house, an ape of others, and in a word, a∣ny thing rather than himselfe.

The Flatterer.

FLatterie is nothing but false friendship, fawning hypocrisie, dishonest ciuilitie, base merchandize of words, a plausible discord of the heart and lips. The Flatterer is bleare-eyed to ill, and can not see vi∣ces; and his tongue walks euen in one tracke of vniust praises; and can no more tell how to discommend, than to speake true. His speeches are full of

wondring Interiections; and all his titles are superlatiue, & both of them seldome euer but in presence. His base minde is well matched with a mercenarie tongue, which is a willing slaue to another mans eare; neither regardeth hee how true, but how pleasing. His Art is no∣thing but delightfull cozenage, whose rules are smoothing and garded with periurie; whose scope is to make men fooles, in teaching them to ouer-value themselues; and to tickle his friends to death. This man is a Porter of all good tales, and mends them in the carriage: One of Fames best friends, and his owne; that helps to furnish

her with those rumors, that may aduantage himselfe. Conscience hath no greater aduersarie; for when shee is about to play her iust part, of accusation; he stops her mouth with good termes, and well-neere strangleth her with shifts. Like that subtle fish he turnes himselfe into the co∣lour of euery stone, for a booty. In himselfe hee is nothing, but what pleaseth his GREAT-ONE, whose vertues he can not more extoll, than imitate his imperfe∣ctions, that hee may thinke his worst gracefull. Let him say it is hote, hee wipes his forhead, and vnbraceth himselfe; if cold, he shiuers, & calles for a warmer garment. When he walks with

his friend hee sweares to him, that no manels is looked at; no man talked of; and that whom∣soeuer hee vouchsafes to looke on & nod to, is graced enough: That he knoweth not his owne woorth, lest hee should be too happie; and when he tells what others say in his praise, he inter∣rupts himselfe modestlie, and dares not speake the rest: so his concealement is more insinua∣ting than his speech. He hangs vpon the lips which hee admi∣reth, as if they could let fall no∣thing but oracles, and finds oc∣casion to cite some approoued sentence vnder the name he ho∣noureth; and when ought is nobly spoken, both his hands

are little enough to blesse him. Sometimes euen in absence hee extolleth his patron, where hee may presume of safe conueiance to his cares; and in presence so whispereth his commendation, to a common friend, that it may not be vnheard where he meant it. He hath salues for euery sore, to hide them, not to heale them; complexion for euery face: Sin hath not any more artificiall broker or more impudent band. There is no vice, that hath not from him his colour, his allure∣ment; and his best seruice is ei∣ther to further guiltinesse, or smother it. If hee grant euill things inexpedient, or crimes errors, he hath yeelded much;

either thy estate giues priuilege of libertie, or thy youth; or if neither, What if it be ill, yet it is pleasant? Honesty to him is nice singularitie, repentance super∣stitious melancholie, grauitie dulnesse, and all vertue an inno∣cent conceit of the base-minded. In short, he is the moth of libe∣rall mens coats, the eare-wig of the mightie, the bane of Courts, a friend and a slaue to the tren∣cher, and good for nothing but to be a factor for the Diuell.

The Slothfull.

HE is a religious man, and weares the time in his cloister; and as the cloake of his doing nothing, pleads contem∣plation; yet is hee no whit the leaner for his thoughts, no whit learneder. He takes no lesse care how to spend time, than others how to gaine by the expense; and when businesse importunes him, is more troubled to fore∣thinke what he must doe, than

another to effect it. Summer is out of his fauour for nothing but long dayes, that make no haste to their eeuen. Hee loues still to haue the Sun witnesse of his rising; and lies long more for lothnesse to dresse him, than will to sleepe: and after some streaking and yawning calles for dinner, vnwashed; which hauing digested with a sleepe in his chaire, he walks forth to the bench in the Market-place, and looks for companions: whom∣soeuer he meets, he stayes with idle questions, and lingring dis∣course; how the dayes are long∣thened, how kindly the wea∣ther is, how false the clocke, how forward the Spring, and

ends euer with What shall we doe? It pleases him no lesse to hinder others, than not to worke him∣selfe. When all the people are gone from Church, hee is left sleeping in his seat alone. Hee enters bonds, and forfeits them by forgetting the day; and asks his neighbour when his owne field was fallowed, whether the next peece of ground belong not to himselfe. His care is ei∣ther none, or too late: when Winter is come, after some sharpe visitations, hee looks on his pile of wood, and asks how much was cropped the last Spring. Necessitie driues him to euerie action, and what hee can not auoid, he will yet defer.

Euery change troubles him, al∣though to the better; and his dulnesse counterfeits a kinde of contentment. When he is war∣ned on a Iurie, hee had rather pay the mulct, than appeare. All but that which Nature will not permit, he doth by a depu∣tie, and counts it troublesome to doe nothing, but to doe any thing, yet more. He is wittie in nothing but framing excuses to sit still, which if the occasion yeeld not, he coineth with ease. There is no worke that is not ei∣ther dangerous, or thanklesse, and whereof he foresees not the inconuenience and gainlesnesse before he enters; which if it be verified in euent, his next idle∣nesse

hath found a reason to pa∣tronize it. He had rather freeze than fetch wood, and chuses ra∣ther to steale than worke; to begge than take paines to steale, and in many things to want than begge. Hee is so loth to leaue his neighbors fire, that he is faine to walke home in the darke; and if he be not lookt to, weares out the night in the chimney-corner; or if not that, lies downe in his clothes to saue two labors. He eats, and prayes himselfe asleepe; and dreames of no other torment but worke. This man is a standing poole, and can not chuse but gather corruption: hee is descried a∣mongst a thousand neighbours

by a drie and nastie hand, that still sauors of the sheet; a beard vncut, vnkembed; an eye and eare yellow with their excreti∣ons; a coat shaken on, ragged, vnbrush't; by linnen and face striuing whether shall excell in vncleanlinesse. For bodie hee hath a swollen legge, a duskie and swinish eye, a blowen cheeke, a drawling tongue, an heauie foot, and is nothing but a ••older earth molded with standing water. To con∣clude, is a man in no∣thing but in speech and shape.

The Couetous.

HEe is a seruaunt to himselfe, yea to his seruant; and doth base homage to that which should be the worst drudge. A liuelesse peece of earth is his master, yea his God, which hee shrines in his coffer, and to which hee sacrifices his heart. Euery face of his coine is a new image, which hee adores with the highest veneration; yet takes vpon him to be protector

of that he worshippeth: which hee feares to keepe, and abhors to lose: not daring to trust ei∣ther any other God, or his own. Like a true Chymist hee turnes euerie thing into siluer, both what hee should eat, and what he should weare; and that hee keepes to looke on, not to vse. When hee returnes from his field, he asks, not without much rage, what became of the loose crust in his cup-boord, and who hath rioted amongst his leekes? He neuer eats good meale, but on his neighbors trencher; and there hee makes amends to his complaining stomacke for his former and future fasts. He bids his neighbours to dinner, and

when they haue done, sends in a trencher for the shot. Once in a yeere perhaps, hee giues him∣selfe leaue to feast; and for the time thinks no man more la∣uish; Wherein hee lists not to fetch his dishes from farre; nor will bee beholden to the sham∣bles; his owne prouision shall furnish his boord with an insen∣sible cost; and when his guests are parted, talkes how much e∣uery man deuoured, and how many cups were emptied, and feeds his familie with the mol∣die remnants a moneth after. If his seruant breake but an earth∣en dish for want of light, hee a∣bates it out of his quarters wa∣ges. He chips his bread, & sends

it backe to exchange for staler. He lets money, and selles Time for a price; and will not be im∣portuned either to preuent or defer his day; and in the meane time looks for secret gratuities, besides the main interest; which he selles and returnes into the stocke. He breeds of Money to the third generation; neither hath it sooner any being, than he sets it to beget more. In all things hee affects secrecie and proprietie: hee grudgeth his neighbor the water of his well: and next to stealing hee hates borrowing. In his short and vnquiet sleepes hee dreames of theeues, & runnes to the doore, and names more men than he

hath. The least sheafe he euer culles out for Tithe; and to rob God holdes it the best pastime, the cleerest gaine. This man cries out aboue other; of the prodigalitie of our times, and telles of the thrift of our forefa∣thers: How that great Prince thought himselfe royally atti∣red, when he bestowed thirteen shillings & foure pence on halfe a sute: How one wedding gown serued our Grandmothers, till they exchanged it for a winding sheet; and praises plainnesse, not for lesse sinne, but for lesse cost. For himselfe hee is still knowen by his fore-fathers coat, which he meanes with his bles∣sing to bequeath to the many

descents of his heires. He nei∣ther would be poore, nor be ac∣counted rich. No man com∣plaines so much of want to a∣uoid a Subsidie; no man is so importunate in begging, so cru∣ell in exaction; and when hee most complaines of want, hee feares that which he complaines to haue. No way is indirect to wealth; whether of fraud or vi∣olence: Gaine is his godlinesse; which if conscience go about to preiudice, and grow troublesom by exclaming against, he is con∣demned for a common barre∣tor. Like another Ahab hee is sicke of the next field, and thinks he is ill seated, while he dwelles by neighbours. Shortly, his

neighbors doe not much more hate him, than he himselfe. He cares not (for no great aduan∣tage) to lose his friend, pine his bodie, damne his soule; and would dispach himselfe when corne falles, but that he is loth to cast away mo∣ney on a cord.

The Vaine-glorious.

ALl his humour rises vp into the froth of ostentation; which if it once settle, falles downe into a narrow roome. If the excesse be in the vnderstan∣ding part, all his wit is in print; the Presse hath left his head emp∣tie; yea not only what he had, but what hee could borrow without leaue. If his glorie be in his deuotion, he giues not an Almes but on record; and if he

haue once done wel, God heares of it often; for vpon euery vn∣kindnesse he is ready to vpbraid him with his merits. Ouer and aboue his owne discharge hee hath some satisfactions to spare for the common treasure. Hee can fulfill the law with ease, and earne God with superfluitie. If hee haue bestowed but a little sum in the glazing, pauing, pa∣rieting of Gods house, you shall finde it in the Church-window. Or if a more gallant humour possesse him, hee weares all his land on his backe, and walking hie, lookes ouer his left shoul∣der, to see if the point of his ra∣pier follow him with a Grace. Hee is proud of another mans

horse; and well mounted thinks euery man wrongs him, that looks not at him. A bare head in the street, doth him more good than a meales meat. Hee sweares bigge at an Ordinarie, and talkes of the Court with a sharpe accent; neither vouch∣safes to name any not honora∣ble, nor those without some terme of familiaritie; and likes well to see the hearer looke vp∣on him amazedly, as if he said, How happy is this man that is so great with great ones! Vnder pretence of seeking for a scroll of newes, hee drawes out an handful of letters endorsed with his owne stile, to the height; and halfe reading euery title, passes

ouer the latter part, with a mur∣mur; not without signifying, what Lord sent this, what great Ladie the other; and for what sutes; the last paper (as it hap∣pens) is his newes from his ho∣nourable friend in the French Court. In the midst of dinner, his Lacquay comes sweating in, with a sealed note from his cre∣ditour, who now threatens a speedie arrest, and whispers the ill newes in his Masters eare, when hee aloud names a Coun∣seller of State, and professes to know the imployment. The same messenger he calles with an imperious nod, and after ex∣postulation, where he hath left his fellowes, in his eare sends

him for some new spur-leathers or stockings by this time foo∣ted; and when he is gone halfe the roome, recalles him, and sayth aloud, It is no matter, let the greater bagge alone till I come; and yet againe calling him closer, whispers (so that all the table may heare) that if his crimson sute be readie against the day, the rest need no haste. He picks his teeth when his stomacke is emptie, and calles for pheasants at a com∣mon Inne. You shall finde him prizing the richert iewels, and fairest horses, when his purse yeelds not money enough for earnest He thrusts himselfe in∣to the prease, before some great Ladies; and loues to be seene

neere the head of a great traine. His talke is how many Mour∣ners hee furnish't with gownes at his fathers funerals, how ma∣nie messes; how rich his coat is, and how ancient, how great his alliance; what challenges hee hath made and answered; what exploits he did at Cales or Nieu∣port: and when hee hath com∣mended others buildings, fur∣nitures, sutes, compares them with his owne. When he hath vndertaken to be the broker for some rich Diamond, he weares it, and pulling off his gloue to stroke vp his haire, thinks no eye should haue any other ob∣iect. Entertaining his friend, he chides his cooke for no better

cheere, and names the dishes he meant, and wants. To con∣clude, hee is euer on the stage, and acts still a glorious part a∣broad, when no man carries a baser heart, no man is more so. did and carelesse at home. Hee is a Spanish souldier on an Ita∣lian Theater; a bladder full of winde, a skin full of words, a fooles wonder, and a wise-mans foole.

The Presumptuous.

PResumption is no∣thing but hope out of his wits, an high house vpon weake pillars. The presumptuous man loues to attempt great things, only because they are hard and rare: his actions are bolde, and venturous, and more full of ha∣zard than vse. He hoiseth saile in a tempest, & sayth neuer any of his Ancestours were drowned: he goes into an infected house,

and sayes the plague dares not seaze on noble blood: he runnes on high battlements, gallops downe steepe hilles, rides ouer narrow bridges, walks on weake ice, and neuer thinks, What if I fall? but, What if I runne ouer and fall not? He is a confident Alchymist, and braggeth, that the wombe of his furnace hath conceiued a burden that will do all the world good; which yet hee desires secretly borne, for feare of his owne bondage: in the mean time, his grasse breaks; yet he vpon better luting, layes wagers of the successe, and pro∣miseth wedges before-hand to his friend. He saith, I will sinne, and be sory, and escape; either

God will not see, or not be an∣grie, or not punish it; or remit the measure. If I doe well, he is iust to reward; if ill, he is mer∣cifull to forgiue. Thus his prai∣ses wrong God no lesse than his offence; and hurt himselfe no lesse than they wrong God. A∣ny patterne is enough to incou∣rage him: shew him the way where any foot hath trod, hee dares follow, altho hee see no steps returning; what if a thou∣sand haue attempted, and mis∣carried; if but one haue preuai∣led, it sufficeth. He suggests to himself false hopes of neuer too late; as if hee could command either Time or repentance: and dare deferre the expectation of

mercy till betwixt the bridge and the water. Giue him but where to set his foot, and hee will remoue the earth. He fore∣knowes the mutations of States, the euents of warre, the temper of the seasons; either his olde prophecie telles it him, or his starres. Yea, hee is no stranger to the Records of Gods secret counsell, but he turnes them o∣uer, and copies them out at plea∣sure. I know not whether in all his enterprises hee shew lesse feare, or wisdome: no man pro∣mises himselfe more, no man more beleeues himselfe. I will go and sell, and returne and purchase, and spend and leaue my sonnes such estates; all which if it succeed, he thanks

himselfe; if not, he blames not himselfe. His purposes are mea∣sured, not by his abilitie, but his will, and his actions by his pur∣poses. Lastly, he is euer credu∣lous in assent, rash in vnderta∣king, peremptorie in resoluing, witlesse in proceeding, and in his ending miserable; which is neuer other, than either the laughter of the wise, or the pitie of fooles.

The Distrustfull.

THe distrustfull man hath his heart in his eyes, or in his hand; nothing is sure to him but what he sees, what hee handles: Hee is either very sim∣ple, or very false; and therefore beleeues not others, because he knowes how little himselfe is worthy of beleefe. In spirituall things, either God must leaue a pawne with him, or seeke some other Creditour. All absent

things and vnusuall, haue no o∣ther, but a conditionall enter∣tainment: they are strange, if true. If he see two neighbours whisper in his presence, he bids them speake out, and charges them to say no more than they can iustify. When he hath com∣mitted a message to his seruant, he sends a second after him, to listen how it is deliuered. He is his owne Secretarie, and of his own counsell, for what he hath, for what hee purposeth: and when he telles ouer his bagges, looks thorow the key-hole, to see if hee haue any hidden wit∣nesse, and askes aloud, Who is there? when no man heares him. He borrowes money when hee

needs not, for feare lest others should borrow of him. Hee is euer timorous, and cowardly; and asks euery mans errand at the doore, ere he opens. After his first sleepe, he starts vp, and askes if the furthest gate were barred, and out of a fearefull sweat calles vp his seruant, and bolts the dore after him; and then studies whether it were better to lie still and beleeue, or rise and see. Neither is his heart fuller of feares, than his head of strange proiects, and far-fetcht constructions; What meanes the State, thinke you, in such an action, and whether tends this course: Learne of mee (if you know not) The waies of deepe

policies are secret, and full of vnknowen windings; That is their act, this will be their issue: so casting beyond the Moone, he makes wise and iust proceed∣ings suspected. In all his predi∣ctions, and imaginations, hee euer lights vpon the worst; not what is most likely will fall out, but what is most ill. There is nothing that he takes not with the left hand; no text which his glosse corrupts not. Wordes, oaths, parchments, seales, are but broken reeds; these shall neuer deceiue him; he loues no pai∣ments but reall. If but one in an age haue miscarried, by a rare casualtie, he misdoubts the same euent. If but a tile fallen from an

hie roofe haue brained a passen∣ger, or the breaking of a coach-wheele haue indangered the burden; hee sweares hee will keepe home; or take him to his horse. Hee dares not come to Church, for feare of the croud; nor spare the Sabbaths labour for feare of the want; nor come neere the Parliament house, be∣cause it should haue beene blowen vp; What might haue beene, affects him as much as what will be. Argue, vow, pro∣test, sweare, he heares thee, and beleeues himselfe. Hee is a Scepticke, and dare hardly giue credit to his senses which hee hath often arraigned of false in∣telligence. Hee so liues, as if he

thought all the world were theeues, and were not sure whe∣ther himselfe were one: Hee is vncharitable in his censures, vn∣quiet in his feares; bad enough alwaies, but in his owne o∣pinion much woorse than he is.

The Characterism of the Ambitious.

AMbition is a proud couetousnes, a dry thirst of honor, the longing disease of reason, an aspi∣ring, and gallant madnesse. The ambitious climes vp high and perillous staires, and neuer cares how to come downe; the desire of rising hath swallowed vp his feare of a fall. Hauing once clea∣ued (like a burre) to some great

mans coat, he resolues not to be shaken off with any small in∣dignities, and finding his holde thorowly fast, casts how to in∣sinuate yet neerer; and there∣fore, hee is busie and seruile in his indeuours to please, and all his officious respects turn home to himselfe. He can be at once a slaue to command, an intelli∣gencer to informe, a parasite to sooth and flatter, a champian to defend, an executioner to re∣uenge; any thing for an aduan∣tage of fauour. He hath proie∣cted a plot to rise, and woe be to the friend that stands in his way: Hee still haunteth the Court, and his vnquiet spirit haunteth him; which hauing

fetch't him from the secure peace of his countrey-rest, sets him new and impossible taskes; & after many disappointments incourages him to trie the same sea in spight of his shipwracks; and promises better successe. A small hope giues him heart a∣gainst great difficulties, and drawes on new expense, new seruilitie; perswading him (like foolish boyes) to shoot away a second shaft, that he may finde the first. He yeeldeth, and now secure of the issue, applauds him selfe in that honour, which hee still affecteth, still misseth; and for the last of all trials, will ra∣ther bribe for a troublesome preferment, than returne void

of a title. But now when hee finds himselfe desperately cros∣sed, and at once spoiled both of aduancement and hope, both of fruition and possibilitie, all his desire is turned into rage, his thirst is now onely of reuenge; his tongue sounds of nothing but detraction & slander: Now the place he sought for is base, his riuall vnworthie, his aduer∣sarie iniurious, officers corrupt, Court infectious; and how well is he that may be his owne man, his owne master; that may liue safely in a meane distance, at pleasure, free from staruing, free from burning. But if his de∣signes speed well; ere hee bee warme in that seat, his minde is

possessed of an higher. What he hath is but a degree to what he would haue: now he scorn∣eth what hee formerly aspired to; his successe doth not giue him so much contentment, as prouocation; neither can he be at rest, so long as he hath one, either to ouerlook, or to match, or to emulate him. When his Countrey-friend comes to visit him, hee carries him vp to the awfull presence; and now in his sight crouding neerer to the Chaire of State, desires to bee lookt on, desires to be spoken to, by the greatest, and studies how to offer an occasion, lest hee should seeme vnknowen, vnregarded; and if any gesture

of the least grace fall happilie vpon him, he looks backe vpon his friend, lest hee should care∣lesly let it passe, without a note: and what hee wanteth in sense, he supplies in historie. His dis∣position is neuer but shamefully vnthankfull; for vnlesse he haue all, he hath nothing. It must be a large draught, whereof he will not say, that those few droppes do not slake, but inflame him: so still hee thinks himselfe the worse for small fauours. His wit so contriues the likely plots of his promotion, as if hee would steale it away without Gods knowledge, besides his will; nei∣ther doth he euer looke vp, and consult in his forecasts, with

the supreme moderator of all things; as one that thinks ho∣nor is ruled by Fortune, and that heauen medleth not with the disposing of these earth∣ly lots: and therefore it is iust with that wise God to defeat his fairest hopes, and to bring him to a losse in the hotest of his chace; and to cause honour to flie away so much the faster, by how much it is more egerly pur∣sued. Finally, he is an importu∣nate sutor, a corrupt client, a violent vndertaker, a smooth factor, but vntrusty, a restlesse master of his owne; a bladder puft vp with the winde of hope, and selfe-loue. Hee is in the common body as a Mole in the

earth, euer vnquietly casting; and in one word is nothing but a confused heape of en∣uie, pride, coue∣tousnesse.

The Vnthrift.

HE ranges beyond his pale, and liues with∣out compasse. His expence is measured not by abilitie, but will. His pleasures are immoderate, and not honest. A wanton eye, a lickerous tongue, a gamesome hand haue impouerisht him. The vulgar sort call him bounti∣full, and applaud him while he spends, and recompence him with wishes when he giues, with

pitie when he wants: Neither can it be denied that he raught true liberalitie, but ouer-went it. No man could haue liued more laudably, if when he was at the best, he had stayed there. While he is present none of the wealthier guests may pay ought to the shot, without much ve∣hemencie, without danger of vnkindnesse. Vse hath made it vnpleasant to him, not to spend. He is in all things more ambiti∣ous of the title of good fellow∣ship than of wisdome. When he looks into the wealthie chest of his father, his conceit sug∣gests that it cannot be emptied; and while hee takes out some deale euery day, hee perceiues

not any diminution; and when the heape is sensiblie abated, yet still flatters himselfe with e∣nough: One hand couzens the other, and the bellie deceiues both: He doth not so much be∣stow benefits, as scatter them. True merit doth not cary them, but smoothnesse of adulation: His senses are too much his guides, and his purueyors; and appetite is his steward. He is an impotent seruant to his lusts; and knowes not to gouerne ei∣ther his minde or his purse. Im∣prouidence is euer the compa∣nion of vnthriftinesse. This man can not looke beyond the pre∣sent, & neither thinks, nor cares what shall be; much lesse sus∣pects

what may be: and while he lauishes out his substance in superfluities, thinks hee onely knowes what the world is woorth, and that others ouer∣prize it. Hee feeles pouertie be∣fore he sees it, neuer complaines till hee be pinched with wants; neuer spares till the bottome, when it is too late either to spend or recouer. Hee is euerie mans friend saue his owne, and then wrongs himselfe most, when he courteth himselfe with most kindnesse. Hee vies Time with the slothfull, and it is an hard match, whether chases a∣way good houres to worse pur∣pose; the one by doing no∣thing, the other by idle pastime.

Hee hath so dilated himselfe with the beames of prosperitie, that he lies open to all dangers, and cannot gather vp himselfe, on iust warning, to auoid a mis∣chiefe. Hee were good for an Almner, ill for a Steward. Fi∣nally, he is the liuing tombe of his fore-fathers, of his posteri∣tie, and when he hath swal∣lowed both, is more emp∣tie than before he de∣uoured them.

The Enuious.

HEe feeds on others euils, & hath no dis∣ease but his neigh∣bors welfare: what∣soeuer God do for him, he can not be happie with companie; and if hee were put to chuse, whether hee would rather haue equals in a common felicitie, or superiors in miserie, hee would demurre vpon the election. His eye casts out too much, and ne∣uer returnes home, but to make

comparisons with anothers good. He is an ill prizer of for∣raine commoditie; worse of his own: for, that, he rates too hie, this vnder value. You shall haue him euer inquiring into the e∣states of his equals and betters; wherein he is not more desirous to heare all, than loth to heare any thing ouer-good: and if iust report relate ought better than he would, he redoubles the question, as being hard to be∣leeue what hee likes not; and hopes yet, if that be auerred a∣gaine to his griefe, that there is somewhat concealed in the re∣lation, which if it were knowen, would argue the commended partie miserable, and blemish

him with secret shame. Hee is readie to quarrell with God, be∣cause the next field is fairer gro∣wen; and angerly calculates his cost, and time, and tillage. Whom hee dares not openly backbite, nor wound with a di∣rect censure, he strikes smooth∣ly with an ouer-cold praise; and when hee sees that hee must ei∣ther maliciously oppugne the the iust praise of another (which were vnsafe) or approoue it by assent, he yeeldeth; but showes withall that his meanes were such, both by nature, and edu∣cation, that he could not with∣out much neglect, be lesse com∣mendable: So his happinesse shall be made the colour of de∣traction.

When an wholsome law is propounded, he crosseth it, either by open, or close oppo∣sition; not for any incommodi∣tie or inexpedience, but because it proceeded from any mouth, besides his owne; And it must be a cause rarely plausible, that will not admit some probable contradiction. When his equall should rise to Honor, he striues against it vnseene; and rather with much cost suborneth great aduersaries; and when hee sees his resistance vaine, he can giue an hollow gratulation in pre∣sence; but in secret, disparages that aduancement; either the man is vnfit for the place, or the place for the man; or if fit, yet

lesse gainfull, or more common than opinion; Whereto he ads, that himselfe might haue had the same dignitie vpon better termes, and refused it. Hee is wittie in deuising suggestions to bring his riuall out of loue, into suspicion. If he be curteous, he is seditiously popular; if boun∣tifull, he bindes ouer his Clients to a faction; if succesfull in war, hee is dangerous in peace; if wealthie, hee laies vp for a day; if powerfull, nothing wants but opportunitie of rebellion. His submission is ambitious hypo∣crisie, his religion, politike insi∣nuation; no action is safe from a iealous construction. When hee receiues an ill report of him

whom hee emulates; hee saith, Fame is partiall, and is wont to blanch mischiefs; and pleaseth himselfe with hope to finde it worse; and if Ill-will haue dispersed any more spightful narration, hee layes holde on that, against all witnesses; and brocheth that rumor for trust, because worst: and when he sees him perfectly miserable, he can at once pitie him, and reioyce. What him∣selfe can not doe, others shall not: he hath gained well, if hee haue hindred the successe of what he would haue done, and could not. He conceales his best skill, not so as it may not be knowen that he knowes it, but so as it may not be learned; be∣cause

he would haue the world misse him. He attained to a so∣ueraigne medicine by the secret legacie of a dying Empericke, whereof he will leaue no heire, lest the praise should be diui∣ded. Finally, he is an enemie to Gods fauors, if they fall beside himselfe; The best nurse of ill Fame; A man of the worst diet; for he consumes himselfe, and delights in pining; A thorne∣hedge couered with nettles; A peeuish interpreter of good things, and no other then a leane and pale carcase quickened with a feend.