KIng of Beasts is a right tyrant among Beasts, Nature it seemes hath made him for terror, for when he roares his Subiects tremble at his voyce. Instead of Er­mins like Hercules hee weares a Lyons skinne; which robe though hee had not on yet would he [Page] be knowne by his clawes. He is alwayes seene in his Parliament robes, but car­ries up his owne traine himselfe. He hath an An­tipathy with the Cocke, especially of the Game. One reason is, because he sees him commonly with his Crowne on his head, while Princes commonly are iealous of each other. Some say because he pre­sumes to come into his presence booted & spur'd, contrary to the Law in Court. But I thinke rather because hee meetes with a Lyons heart in so weake a body. He is of a generous & noble dispositiō, offend [Page] him not, & he is a lambe, touch him never so little, and hee is a Lyon right: He is exceeding iealous of his Lionesse especially of the Parde; not without good cause, since they of­ten meet by stealth, and he inforced ful sore against his will to father the Leo­pard though a Bastard, and none of his. He is so hot of Nature that he is never without a burning feaver, but is faine to recover himselfe; for in his raging fits, no one of his Physiti­ans dares approach to feele his pulse. He dreads the fire hee sees without, be­cause he feeles so great a [Page] heat within, which euen glowes againe at the win­dowes of his eyes. His children are no crying Puppies, but whelpes ra­ther, that come at last to be roaring boyes; Yet they cannot a letter of the booke, not so much as the Christ-crosse Row. Onely in the Greeke Alphabet their memorie serues but to carry away the last let­ter ( [...]) which they will tone foorth with such a throat as no cryer in Westminster-hall can put you forth such a one. And no maruell they can reade no better, since they hate the vowels; the A because [Page] it is too childish, the E too feminine, the I stands not with their maiestie, for the O they are too stout to blinch or say oh at any thing, and for the V they hold it rusticitie. If hee chance to flye out at any time or be unruly, where­as Mad-men are put into Bedlam, Rogues into Brid­well, Beggers into the Stocks, Night-walkers in­to the Counter, he for his Nobilitie is clapt into the Tower, where he is never like to come forth, till in­stead of stripping his Col­lar, he be stript of his skin.

IS that nimble Reueller of the Forrest who is al­waies set vpon a merrie pin. It is the innocencie of his gentle breast, that makes his heart so light, and the bodie so naturally actiue. He keepes Holiday euerie day, and is neuer without his pumps on, to be readie to dance. For he will daunce you beyond measure, and yet be neuer out of his dance. He is ve­rie desperate in his tricks, so that if he chance to fall, he ventures his necke, life, and all. He is no Carpet-knight [Page] that danceth on strewed tapestries, for he will daunce upon a tree without any musicke, But this in the Forrest onely, for in the Citie he hath a­nother manner with him, where it is ridiculous to daunce without musicke, and therefore gets him a dauncing schoole with a chime of little Bels at least. He is a foure-footed bird that is kept in a cage, not to sing, for hee hath no voice that is worth the hearing, but to dance one­ly. One would wonder to see him so well breathed who will hold out so long and yet not be tyred, espe­cially [Page] considering the diet he uses being commonly nuts, so apt with us to breed obstructions, and the tisicke. With an apple and a nut or two hee will make himselfe not onely an handsome collation but a royall feast. It is verie strange what teeth the thiefe hath, for he wil pare you a wallnut as bigge as his head, much sooner than we an apple, yea and devoure the kernell and all ere you would imagine. He hath a good face, and he knowes it well, & some beautie withall, whereof he is exceeding choice and tender, while hee never [Page] goes especially in the Sun, but he carries his Vmbrella about him, which serves him likewise for a cloake in a showre of raine. Hee that should marke him well, would thinke him a puppet made in fashion of a Squiril, that by engines were made so to mount up and downe, and that either he had no ioynt at all, or all were nothing else but ioynts, for he moves not his head so much as his whole bodie when hee moves. Hee is very neat, for hee washes his face at every bit he eats, & should be a Iew in that, but in o­ther things hath no Reli­gion [Page] in him at all. In a word, I told him to have a good nature with him, and a pretty wit, & though hee seeme to have a cun­ning head, yet stayed e­nough from any de­bauchments.

IS that little great Com­petitour of Regall digni­tie upon trees, who carri­ed it away from the rest. He is the right Agathocles raised from dust to su­preme authoritie, to weild the Scepter in our wilder­nesse of Plants. The Dio­nisius [Page] Tyrant of Sicilie, who rules rather with the prickie thornes of severi­tie, than with the Roses and sweets of lenitie. Had he the Muskes of the Eg­lantine to temper his thornes, his Empire would be more tolerable. It is a tree indeed without a trunke, a trunke without boughes, boughes fuller of prickes than leaves, of leaves than fruits. He pro­claimes his shadow to be a protection to all; but who is hee would chuse such a harbour to pay for his lodging with a scracht face? To retaine the maie­stie of a Prince he hath al­wayes [Page] a Corps-de Guard about him, armed with Holbe [...]ts never from his side. He is greedie and ha­ving, because tenacious and a notable griper of all who have any thing to do with him: And for his fees (as he calls them) he will pull the cloathes from your backe by hooke or crooke. It is a woodden Saw full of teeth, which needs no whetting, as be­ing alwayes on edge, but without handles, because not to bee handled, yet yeelds no dust as it goes, like other Sawes, but in lieu thereof makes the bloud to follow. He is a [Page] Schoolemaster right, who is never without a sharpe rod in his hand, and his Schollars are certaine blacke boyes that board in his house. He is as good as a Sergeant at Mace, for if he catch a debter by the cloake as he goes along, he would make him beleeve he were arrested, and loo­king backe to bee readie to aske at whose suite. Howsoever hee is a right Catch pole, that will go neare to catch one by the pole indeed. He is no swearer, but will rend and teare like an arrant Turk. In fine, being of the fami­lie of the Bushes, he is rai­sed [Page] to have a place in the Moone; for if it bee true that there is a man in the Moone with his dogge, he is not without his bush with him which is our Bramble.

IS a stately Beast to be­hold, you would say he were some Coriphaeus of the Lyons Court. He is tall enough of stature of himselfe, but affects a port­linesse so much, that as o­thers helpe themselves with Corkes and Chep­peens, hee hath his Stilts [Page] upon his head, to make him seeme much higher then he is. His coat is faire and beautifull, powdered here and there with cer­taine spots which make a handsome shew, and were it not his owne, would be thought a rich weare, and little inferiour to the Mar­tin furrs or the Ermins of Russia. He hath long and slender legges, like a Red­shanke, or Irish Kern, which makes him so tall a footman as he is. He hath foure of them, or else it were impossible so great a bulke could be held up by so weake pillars. Hee flies like a Parthian Arch­er, [Page] with his face turned backwards, not to shoote his enemies, but to shew them a faire paire of heels. Before he fights he whets his horne, as a Mower doth his Sithe, but uses them rather as a Pitch­forke in harvest to tosse the hounds with, like hey­cocks in the Meadowes. Hee is much delighted with Musicke, I may say much taken with it, for he is often caught of the Hunters by that meanes; As the Horse by his teeth is knowne how old he is, if the marke be not out of his mouth; so hee by his hornes, if he have not cast [Page] them in some bush. The Heralds call his hornes his Thiara or dresse, and say hee is not fully attired till he have them absolute and compleate: this I am sure of, that when they have them not on, they are ashamed, and hide themselves, as Maids that are unreadie. Hence it is perhaps that tyers and hornes are held Synoni­mas. Hee is very constant in his fashion, for he chan­ges his attire but once a yeare, and then never al­ [...]ers it a whit. Hee beares his yeares very well, as one that takes no care, while all the care and [Page] paine is rather had how to take him. When he is hunted by a Prince, he is ever after termed a Hart. In fine, had he but valour to his strength, and not such wings at his feet, I see not why but for his goodly head hee might make a noble Standard in our Wildernesse.

IS the Basiliske of Me­tals, for the Regall Crowne he weares upon his head. Nature it seems hath layd him out of sight in the bowels of the earth for feare of killing with his lookes. It is either the Sulphure it selfe or the boyling froth of Hell, and eternall flames, it is the selfe same colour, and the cause of so many damna­ble actions. It is now through wantonnes made potable, and for its sake wee swallow all things. And if they could, I veri­ly [Page] think they would have it respirable, which they do pretty well, when they can breathe and speake of nothing else. He is the Orpheus who with his lookes only, without set­ting his hand to the Lyre, enchants and ravishes the most savadge of our wil­dernesse. He hath a key that opens all locks, will prostitute Widdowes, and corrupt Virgins. Hee will enter into all mens coun­sels, yea, insinuates him­selfe into Princes Cabi­nets. It is the Sunne that dispels all clouds of me­lancholy from the heart, and makes one, of a Sa­turne [Page] a Iupiter, because joviall. Hee is capable but of two sinnes, Base­nesse and Levity, which in him are held for mor­tall. He loves not to bee cut or barbed, nor wash­ed in his trimming, for thereby he loses much of credit and estimation with men. Hee is very charita­ble, for he will waste and spend himselfe and sub­stance to make a sick man well, or to comfort his heart. He hath no good voyce, but a kinde of hoarsenesse with him, which yet is twenty times more gracefull than the best musick the silver [Page] makes. Hee seemes to have the yellow Iaundies, it is but his naturall com­plexion, which in the eyes of men makes him the more amiable, nor have ever heard him to bee thrust into the Pesthouse for his looke: If he looke pale now and then, it is for feare of falling in th [...] Coyners or Clipper [...] hands, his chiefest ene [...]mies. Hee feares no [...] theeves so much as Vsu [...]rers, while the first giv [...] him liberty, and let him go currant where he will the other thrust him up in some hole or dun [...]geon, where hee sees no [Page] light. Though hee bee heavy in himselfe, yet is hee lighter and fitter for travell than Silver is: in fine hee is good if not a­bused.

IS a right Vrchin and a peevish Elfe, that cannot bee medled with at no hand. He is a whole fort in himselfe, hee the Go­vernor, his skin the wals, his prickles the Corpes de guard. He is very jealous and suspitious by nature, so that he never takes his [Page] rest, till hee have set the watch. He hath a draw­bridge to collect himselfe with at his pleasure, espe­cially when he stands up­on his guard, so as it were impossible to make any breach into him. Hee is a great enemy to the winds, principally the North and South; and therefore having but two gates to the City where he keepes his hold, hee hath barri­cadoes for them both to shut them out. There are two sorts of them, one for land, who never put to sea, the other seafaring men, that never come to land: who as they differ [Page] in trade of life, so do their manners: yet both are weather wise alike, and both crafty enough it seemes to provide for themselves. For if the one have his fort, the other his ship to trust to: and if the one keepe out the wind at his doores, the o­ther in a storme will stick to his tackling, and take in stones for his Ballice, or if need bee, cleave to an anchor; and therefore should be politick as they all likely are, who are so. Hee is all comb, though not to kemb with, which hath no teeth but to mis­chiefe with, and therefore [Page] is no friend from the teeth outward, while eve­ry tooth is a very sting. He is but a milksop yet, and a very suckling, who will hang on the speens of every Cow, which therefore makes him cry so like a child. He cannot brag much of his gentry, whose father was a Boare, his mother a Sow, him­selfe a Pigge, and all begot under a hedge. If there bee any such place as Hoggs Norton is, where Piggs play on the Or­gans, it is surely with them; who have such a squeeking cry with their wind instruments. What [Page] his flesh is to eat, I know not, but I should think, hee that should eat him whole, were as good have a burre in his throat. They say his flesh is as good and as tender as a Rabbet, but this I am sure, their furre is nothing neere so gentle. As the Fox hath his hole, so hath he his bush, from whence there is no getting him forth, till he be fired out. Hee is no great medler himselfe, nor loves to bee medled with, nor any that is wise, I think, will teyze with him, who knowes how touchy hee is. For my part, if I stum­ble [Page] not on him, I will have nothing to do with him.

IS the Pirat of the Lake, that roves and preyes upon the little Fishermen of that sea, who is so co­vetous and cruell, that he gives no quarter to any; when hee takes his prize, hee goes not to the shore to make his market, but greedily devoures it him­selfe; yea, is such a Cor­morant, that hee will not stay the dressing of it. [Page] He is called the Wolfe of the water, but is indeed a monster of nature; for the Wolfe spares his kinde, but hee will devoure his owne nephewes ere they come to full growth. He is very gallant in appar­rell, and seemes to affect to go rather in silver than in gold, wherein he spares for no cost▪ for his habit is all layd with silver plate downe to the foot in scal­lop wise. Hee is a right man of warre, and is so slender built, and drawes so little water, as hee will land at pleasure, and take his prey where he list, no shallop shall follow where [Page] hee will lead. The Pikes themselves are the taller ships, the Pickerels, of a middle sort, and the Iacks, the Pinnaces a­mongst them, which are all armed according to their burden. The The master or Pilot sits at the prore, yet hath the rudder so at command, that hee can winde and turne the vessell which way he will, in the twinck­ling of an eye. He sets up but little sayles, because he would not bee discove­red who he is, yea many times no sayle at all, but trusts to the finnes, his Oares. The youthfuller [Page] sorts of Pikes, whom through familiarity they call Iacks, are notable Laddes indeed, and so their strength and big­nesse will fish as their fa­thers [...]. In a word, a man would easily bee mistaken in him in be­holding him so handsome and gentle a creature, and never imagin him to bee halfe so ravenous as he is; but Fronti nulla fides.

IS the huge and vast Whale in the sea of the desert, which spouts his water by the springs that shout from him; and in the time of tempests, by his open jawes receives the amazed beasts as Io­nas into his belly, and so shelters them till the storme blow over. Hee is so unweildy and stiffe in all his joynts, as he never moves but in Earth­quakes, and then rocks like himselfe. It is the pallace of the king of beasts, where hee keepes [Page] his Court, well founded, walled, and vaulted over with a stony roofe; no windowes there, but the open doores or mouth thereof, unlesse you will say the eyes of every creature there, are the glasse windowes, which being within, doe serve them well enough to see with. He is even as old as the world, and hath seene many centuries of yeeres to passe over his head. Hee could speake perhaps of the Deluge of Noah, as it had been but yesterday, were hee well put to it. This I can tell you, that being so long [Page] under water, hee still keeps his breath to the end, as well as at the first, and came forth of the wa­ters as fresh as ever. There is no Tortoyse could beare so great a load, yea, if the whole world were laid on his back, he would not shrink an inch under it, unlesse the foundation or center should faile. It is well that God and nature hath made him inani­mate, for were he sensible as the beasts of the For­rests are, and should but walk therein, hee would shoulder every thing out of his place. Hee is no­thing so bad as those of [Page] the sea are, which lie lurk­ing in wait over head and eares to work mischiefe, while this of the wilder­nesse is very curteous, and doth many good offices for his neighbours, the inhabitants round about him. He is very valiant, for if he have any quarrels with any, hee will never budge a foot from the place hee is in. In fine, though he be a Rock, hee is no scandall of offence to any, but a faire exam­ple and pattern to us of constancy and perseve­rance in vertue and a good life.

IS a right Worcestershire man, bred on Mauburne hills, which hee takes for an honour, and therefore stands so much upon his tiptoes. He is high fed, but is but leane, because lea­ving the fat of the earth, he picks his hungrie salets from the bush tops. He is a very churle, who is never good to any til he be dead, for then you may have his skinne, a good commodi­tie, nor ever comes to any honour till then, when he hath the priviledge to kisse the best mans hand. [Page] If hee come from Spaine, he is allied to the chiefest houses there, and derives himselfe from that of the Corduas, and will be called by no other name. Yet howsoever he is but a Slo­ven in his clothes, which hang so like ragges about him as his knees appeare not. It should seeme of himselfe he hath but an ill breath, who is likely ne­ver without his perfumes, and is not so neat as hee should bee. Hee is very grave as appeares well by his long beard, but not trim'd after the Persian manner, with faire Musta­cho's, while his haire [Page] growes all beneath his chinne; whereof hee is so proud, that if you take him by it, they all take it for a common affront to the il­lustrious familie of the Goats, and wil either hang downe the head, or make it a quarrell. He glories of I know not what, and de­spiseth the innocencie of the sheepe for his simplici­tie, and wanting the garbe of a compleate Gallant as he takes himselfe to be. But the great Shepherd as the onely King Herald of Armes, hath decided al­readie which is the better man, and put him on the left hand. While they are [Page] kids they are innocent e­nough, but being elder grow debauched to all las­civiousnesse. They are ve­ry amorous, and therefore their milke is cordiall, for love flows from the heart. He is a notable Physitian, but deales by restoratives onely, and therein hath excellent medicines many wayes. He should be curst, who hath so harsh a haire which perhaps is the cause he is never trim'd. He is quicke of hearing, but not so quicke as to heare any good of himselfe, for they all crie out upon him, fie, fie, how he stinks; which he neither regards, nor yet [Page] beleeves; so good a con­ceit hee hath of himselfe. He hath an excellent eare, and loves Musicke beyond measure, but not out of measure, for that would ar­gue he had no eare. But he hath no Nose to smell with, that makes his eares so good, Quia pluribus in­tentus: the Fawnes and Satyrs take it for a grace to put on his dresse, who are no small ones in this wildernesse. Nor hath he lived so ill a life on earth, but hee hath deserved to have his place there in the heavens, as well as the rest, where I leave him.

IS the Iris of the eare, as the Iris is the Eccho of the eyes. She is the true Camelion of the Aire that changes into every colou­rable sense. The Proteus that transformes her selfe to every shape of words. She is the Inamourado of the Forrest that will be ta­ken with every ones love, and as Narcissus with his own beauty, be enamour­ed with her owne tongue, and take delight to heare her selfe speake. Yea she is a thing or nothing, a rat­ling Gossip, a meere bab­ler, [Page] a teller of tales. One that hath no substance in her, but is a meere acci­dent, in that she comes suddenly upon you unloo­ked for. She is of a strange qualitie, who takes delight to affright the ignorant and simple: will play the Hobgoblin, the Fairie of the woods, least in sight, or wholly out of sight. Though shee bee a talker, and full of her tongue, yet she hath no invention with her, nor can contrive any thing of her owne, for she speakes but by heare­say, onely all shee utters, and that upon trust of a­nother, nor can tell you [Page] the Author, unlesse he dis­cover it himselfe. She hath no memorie at all, and therefore can remember but the last words shee heares, which she will do very faithfully indeed, and not leave you out a tittle. She hath no certaine tone of her owne, but as she is taught, immediately be­fore which she will exactly imitate, if her master bee present, else not, for shee cannot retaine her lessen long, but must instantly recite it, or else shee is no bodie. She will keepe her key well if she sing, and never misse it, if he that is the Rector Chori, guides [Page] the Quire, mistake it not. And when shee sings at anytime; she sings no di­stinct part from her fel­low, or the rest of the parts; for she hath no skill at all to compose or set a whit, or to runne descant on a ground, but sings the very same the others do. She dares not stand to any thing she saith, but goes her wayes presently, and never yet durst shew her face. She is a very Monster and a Prodigie of Nature, having no body to speake of, at least as small and slen­der as the Ayre, and yet hath a mouth as wide as the valleyes. She hath no [Page] proper tongue of her own, but what she borrowes. If the Lyon roare, she roares likewise; if the Heyfer lowe, she lowes as loud; if the Wolfe but howle, she howles for company; yea rather then stand out, she will bray with the verie Asse; but is never better in her Q indeed then when she apes the Nightingale especially in their fughes, for then you would thinke them both starke madde, while they follow one a­nother so close at the heeles, and yet can never overtake each other. She is a right woman, that can keepe no counsell, and yet [Page] will bee readie to intrude her selfe into everie ones counsell, but as soone as shee hath it, out it goes straight, life or death, all is one to her. She were good to make a Player of the Stage, for she would take her cues excellently well. She is no Ciceronian, nor apt for fluent stiles; but a Lipsian right, and fitter for a briefe manner of speech Dialogue wise. All her Poetry is chiefly in Sa­phicks or Iambicks at most, for she cannot abide the examiter or heroical verse, because too long for her. In fine, though shee bee a common speaker and tel­ler [Page] of newes (as I said) yet makes she a conscience to devise any of her selfe, and therefore would hardly serve to be the Secretarie of false fame, but being once broached, let her a­lone to blaze it abroad through all the Wilder­nesse.

IS Dian's Glasse, or com­mon mirrour of the rest of Nimphs, wherewith they dresse themselves. It is a liquid christall, whose Ice the crust thereof makes the perfect Christal, while [Page] the Sands in the bottome as the blacke of the mir­rour, makes the foile that causeth the reflection. It is more properly a sea, than the sea it selfe, because in­deed a true congregation of waters, so gathered into the stonie cesterne of the Rocks. He is no flatterer, but a true tell-troth, for he will shew the Stagge his braunchy hornes, the Asse his prodigious eares, and discover the Satyr to bee a beast as he is by his at­tire. He is very liberall of his liquids to all the For­rest, for let them provide meat elsewhere, and hee will finde them drinke e­nough: [Page] exceedingly bles­sed of God for this his hospitalitie, for though he have given drinke to all our Desert from the time of Noe, his store is never a whit the lesse. He is verie patient, who will suffer any reasonable burden to be layed on his backe, and beare it; willingly, if it sink not of it selfe, or bee not perhaps stirred up and set on by the malitious blasts of the calumnious winds: for thē he wil so lash forth with his waves like so ma­ny kicks of the heele, that twentie to one he unhors­eth whatsoever is on his backe, unlesse such as [Page] through a priviledge of Nature are so good horse­men as to keepe the saddle and ride it out in spight of Aeolus and him. He is not hot, but yet of that quali­tie, that he will beare no coa [...]es, especially if active and lively. As great as hee is, there is no Snake shall creepe in at a lesser hole then he; and like him where he gets but his head in once, with time enough hee will draw his whole bodie after him. He is free to lend what hee hath, as appeares by the Sunne who is alwayes borrow­ing of his store, which he fetches and drawes with [Page] his exhalation, but lookes to be repaide againe with interest. He loves to keepe company with the nobler sort, who are truly gene­rous and better then him­selfe, and will beare with them, especially the more airy they be, as come from a higher familie. But for the ignobler multitude, as the earth and earthly things, he contemnes thē, and sets them at his foot. He is so pittifull that hee will communicate himselfe to any that stands in need of him, & will even spend and exhaust himselfe to do them good, being ne­ver more troubled then [Page] when he findes himselfe so limited that he cannot go forth to help his neigh­bour. He is cold of consti­tution, and will congeale through feare with the least frost, and then the very boyes may triumph over him, and even ride upon him at their pleasure. He is stable and constant, and not so fleeting as the Sea which hath his Ebbes and flowes, while being contented with his owne estate, he lives most happy in his solitude, remaining so private in the Wilder­nesse, where like a true Hermite he keepes an ex­act and endlesse silence in [Page] his cell assigned him by nature.

IS the Shop of Mulci­ber, or Vulcan's Forge, where Neptune's Trident, Iove's Thunderbolts, and Mars his Sword and Tar­get were first forged. If Pluto's treasury be golden Mynes in the bowels of the earth, this is his Kit­chin, seated in his cellars there, or his Coalehouse rather, where hee stores his fuell for his rosts. It is the right downe staire­case [Page] that from the face of the earth, leades into his Pallaces beneath, whose staires are no more than a wicker basket, and a rope, not to hold, but to hang by rather. It is a chimny, whose tunnell casts no smoake, but damps, yet able to make all the chimnies of the world to smoake. It is the Peru of Newcastle Merchants. The Havana where they make their randevouz for their black and sable gold. It is the Mare mortuum, or black sea, where they dive for Pearles, a Pearlelike trea­sure hidden in the scallop [Page] of coale, through its in­estimable riches. It seems to bee no other mould than ordinary, a little blacker than the richer sort of our best soyle. If the wildernesse bee sicke or distempered with some melancholy, or choler adust; it is the opening of the veine to let out that coaly and black stuffe, true melancholy indeed: while the Anger is the lancet that pierceth it, the Buckets the sawcers which receive the corrupt bloud. Hee is very chari­table, who hath not only an ardent heat and for­uour in himselfe, but is [Page] euer ready to communi­cate the same to others, especially if they approach unto him, and bee but conversant and familiar with him: it being not possible for one to keepe him company for any time, and not enflamed, though of iron, or harder hearted than a very stone. He is a right Salamander that lives in the fire, but yet for want of fresh com­pany, will even die in the fire it selfe, and, as all things else, at last bee brought to ashes. The truth is, hee is not a ma­ster cooke, but a scullion, and therefore meddles no [Page] higher than with making the fire only. He is fitter indeed for the Kitchin than the Parlour, for his ill complexion he gives to others; especially Ladyes, and the finer sort, who therefore casheere him thence, and shut him out for a rude companion. Hee is but of meane and base condition, and hath his extraction from the earth only, both by fa­ther and mother, whereas Seignior Charcoale is of a better descent, and comes perhaps from the loynes of stately Ash, Oak, or Beech. Hee is good to approach to, but [Page] not too neere, for so hee will anger you, and put you into a heat, but if you keepe your distance with him, hee is a very good companion in the winter. And to tell you truth, hee is a good plaine fellow, and an honest Blacksmith, and in the forge will take his liquor as well as his master, if hee take not too much.

IS a clumzy fisted fellow come from Greenland, who goes in a Rugge-gown, [Page] for the coldnesse of that climate, which here also hee cannot leave off, out of custome. Hee is a true savage, who hath no more civility with him than that place can afford him: By his gate you wold take him to bee a right cripple, who goes on his hands, while his forefeet are much shorter than his hinder. Hee is no witch though hee border upon Lapland, and bee tied to a stake, for hee burnes not there, though he bee hot, and put into a chafe by the Mastive dogs. He is pestilence kind where hee takes, for if hee chance to [Page] catch a dog in his armes, hee so hugges him, as hee will even breake his back withall. Hee is very lico­rish, which makes him love hony so much, that costs him many a scratcht face by those peevish Elfs who have the keeping of it; but he cares not, so he may lick his lips after it. What his tallents are o­therwise, I know not, but I am sure, hee hath good tallons of his owne that take such hold of one▪ Some call them clawes, but they do him wrong, for he cannot flatter. But I should take them for pawes rather, which will [Page] make you pause ere you get out of them. If he be a man of warre, he is a tall one, for hee fights high, and is nothing snugge as the Bull is, who fights so low; but high or low, when he fights, he will be sure to roare full loud with his cannon voyce, if hee bee put to it. Hee is very unthrum at every thing he goes about, and brings his work but rawly forth, till with the fyling of the tongue with much adoe, he brings them at last to some perfection. He is a good Trencherman, for hee will eat soundly at an other mans cost. But if he [Page] be at his own finding, hee will dine you sometimes with Duke Humphrey, and keepe his chamber like one with never a pe­ny in his purse. They have their Seniors with them, it should seem, who have their Majorities and Minorities amongst them: but fall not out about pre­cedence, because in the heavens there is no strife at all; the truth is, hee would make at least a good Groome in the Ly­ons Court, especially the Porter there, for his grim looke and the habit hee weares.

SEemes to be a thing of nothing. It is even the dwarfe among the rest of seeds; and yet is a Giant if you deale with him. Hee is very snappish, for if you meddle with him, he will strait take you by the nose. He is full of his jests, which are so quick and sharpe, as you will not know how to relish them, for they bite shrewdly. Hee hath a strange manner with him, while hee will touch you by the tongue, and tickle you in the nose, and so [Page] tyrannize upon you, as he will make you put fin­ger in the eye. He is alone but a common souldier, but if they gather toge­ther, and make a muster, there is no hoe with them, especially when they take their liquor well, for then they will assault the stoutest man of the guard. Poore Iohn were but a poore thing, were it not for him, and a Ioule of Ling, a fit com­panion for the best mans table, will blush to ap­peare without his compa­ny, when they will never lin calling for him, where is the Mustard? yea, a [Page] Surloyn of Beefe, as surly as he lookes, after he hath bin well soused in a bri­nish sea, and come safely off with a powder, and be never so well larded with­in with fat on his sides, yet if he have not this case of Pistols by his side, no man will reguard him. Hee is hot and firy of na­ture, which makes him mount up to the brain, as to his proper element, where he keepes such a bustling, as hee turnes all the liquors thence out of the glasse windowes. He is very saucy wheresoever hee comes to any mans table, for he will take up­on [Page] him to season every dish, so much sometimes as he mars all, till hee take his sugar with him, for then hee hath no fellow. He is but little in himselfe, but growes to be an Oak among the rest of herbs; upon whose boughes, the chanting birds take plea­sure to warble out their descants, and who knows whether to the honour of this miracle of seeds. He feares not the Muster ma­ster so much, who but layes him forth to take view of them and no more, as the Mustard ma­ker, who puts him into Bridewell, as it were, to [Page] pound in a Morter. If he be of the right stamp, and a true Tewxbury man, he is a cholericke gentleman, and will beare no coales; but will himselfe strike any man into a heat that takes him into his roofe; though indeed he will ea­sily bee pacified againe with a crust of bread, and so long I hold him to bee no such perillous Compa­nion.

IS the trustie Centinel of the Romane Capitol, whom Heliogabolus hated and the Romanes honour­ed so much. She hath but a simple looke with her, but hath a great deale more matter in her, then you would take her to have. Yet shee hath no good way to bring up her children, for she still keeps them at home shee is so fond of them; nor ever sends them abroad to see fashions, whereby they prove to bee arrand guls, and know not how to [Page] looke a man in the face. She maintains them hand­some enough in apparell, if not too richly for her calling, while they go in Plush every day, assoone as they come out of their cradle, but of a colour as makes them to bee right guls indeed. There is no deceit in them, but are ho­nest swizers all, as bred in Lucerna Lake. They hate the Laurell, which is the reason they have no Poets amongst them; so as if there be any that seeme to have a smatch in that ge­nerous Science, he arrives no higher then the stile of a Ballet, wherin they have [Page] a reasonable facultie; espe­cially at a Wake, when they assemble themselves together at a Towne­greene, for then they sing their Ballets, and lay out such throats as the coun­trey Fidlers cannot bee heard. They are good pen­men, though no good Clarks, but yet excellent Scribes, who copie forth all the Books that are. But for the Gander hee is so curst, and is so full of teeth, that hee even sputters a­gaine, and hath no good utterance with him, and therefore by all Scribes is thrust out for a wrangler, being good for nothing [Page] but to sweepe houses, which hee will do very neatly▪ She is good for bed and boord, for bed while there is no Feather­bed or Pillow likely with­out her; & for the boord, there is no Feast if she be not there. She is able to furnish a whole table her selfe; if Pudding, Pottage, Rost, and baked, make but a feast. She is very hot of nature, which makes her bathe so much, and go barefoot, Winter and Summer. She is no Witch or Astrologer to divine by the Starres, but yet hath a shrewd guesse of rainie weather being as good as [Page] an Almanack to some that beleeve in her. She hath a great opinion of her owne stature, especially if she be in company of the rest of her Neighbours and fel­low ghossips the Duckes and the Hennes at a Har­vest-feast: for then if she enter into the Hall there, as high and wide as the doore is, she will stoop for feare of breaking her head; And is so full of tongue the while, as she takes up the whole discourse of the Table, which makes her so much noted for it: She hath but a hoarse voyce when she sings forth; be­cause shee straines it so [Page] much, whereas if shee would sing but somewhat lower, her voyce perhaps would be more gratefull; but as it is, I know not a worse. She lisps not when she speakes, but pronoun­ces her s s very perfectly, in so much as she hisses a­gaine, the reason may be, because her Organ-pipe is made in forme of an S. In fine, I could wish there were none that had more malice in them.

IS a creature made as it were in waxe. When na­ture first framed him, she took a secret complacence in her worke. He is even her master-peece in irraci­onall things, borrowing somewhat of all things to set him forth. For example his slicke bay Coat, hee tooke from the Chesnut, his Necke from the Rain­bow, which perhaps make him rain so wel; his Maine belike he tooke from Pe­gasus, making him a Hob­bie to make this a com­pleat Gennet, which Main [Page] he weares so curld, much after the womens fashions now adayes, this I am sure of, howsoever it becomes them: It sets forth our Gennet well, his legges, he borrowed of the Hart with his swiftnesse, which makes him a true courser indeed. The Starres in his forehead hee fetcht from heaven, which will not be much mist, there being so many. The little head he hath, broad breast, fat but­tocke, and thicke tayle, are properly his owne; for he knew not where to get him better. If you tell him of the hornes he wants to make him most compleat, [Page] he scornes the motion, and sets them at his heele. He is well shod especially in the upper leather, for as for his soles, they are much at reparation, and often faine to be removed. Nature seemes to have spent an Apprentiship of yeares to make you such a one, for it is full seven yeares ere hee comes to this perfection, and be fit for the Sadle: for then (as we) he seemes to come to the yeares of discretion, when he will shew a kinde of rationall judgement with him, and if you set an expert Rider on his backe, you shall see how [Page] sensiblie they will talke together as Master and Scholler. When he shall be no sooner mounted and planted in the seat with the reins in one hand, a switch in the other, and speaking with his spurres in the Horses flankes, a lan­guage he wel understands, but he shall pronce, curvet, and dance the Canaries halfe an houre together in compasse of a bushell, and yet still as he thinkes get some ground, shaking the goodly plume on his head with a comely pride. This will our Bucephalus do in the lists. But when hee comes abroad into the [Page] fields hee will play the countrey Gentleman as truly as before the Knight in Turnament. If the game be up once, and the hounds in chase, you shall see how he will pricke up his eares streight, & tickle at the sport as much as his Rider shall, and laugh so loud, that if there be many of them, they will even drowne the rurall harmo­ny of the dogges. When he travels, of all Innes he loves best the signe of the silver bell, because likely there he fares best, especi­ally if hee come the first, and get the prize. He car­ries his eares upright, nor [Page] seldome ever lets them fall till they be cropt off, and after that as in despight will never weare them more. His taile is so essen­tiall to him, that if he loose it once hee is no longer an Horse, but ever stiled a Curtall. To conclude, he is a blade of Vulcans forg­ing, made for Mars of the best metall, and the Post of Fame to carrie her tidings through the world, who if he knew his own strength would shrewdly put for the Monarchie of our wil­dernesse.

IS a noble Bird, and if the Eagle be royally descen­ded, and of the bloud, hee is one of the Peeres of that Monarchy, that would put in for the Crown, if that line failed. The truth is, he is a com­panion for a Prince, who will not stick sometimes as a favour to take him by the hand, yea 'that hand which every one strives to kisse, will not disdaine to kisse his foot, and bee his footstoole. He is such a Courtier, that a Clown will commit you a thou­sand [Page] absurdities in his lan­guage, but only to speake of him, much lesse know how to demeane himselfe in his presence, and to give him his dues. He is so punctuall and precise in all things, as he hath a peculiar language, as it were, to himselfe, so as hardly hee hath a feather about him, that hath not his proper appellation. There is a world of di­stinct families sprung from the ancient stock of the Hawkes, while there are no yeomen amongst them, being all daintily bred. The femals, which are the wives with them, [Page] do weare the breeches, the Males having yeelded up the right of superiority to them, as being the true Amazons of that species. They are chast and loyall enough to their mates, nor will easily stain the marriage bed; but the male is fain to play the cocquain at home to look to the house, while the goodwife her selfe will go to the market to seeke provision, or hunt for the purpose. They go in se­verall habits, some with long sleeves, they call wings, other shorter, and so are stiled short or long wing'd Hawes, according [Page] to their habits, but so, as constant ever in the fashi­on they once take up. They have excellent Tay­lors when need is to mend their cloathes, who will put you peeces so cun­ningly in, that they shall not be perceived. Hoods are a great fashion with them, which terme they keepe common with us; but for their bootes, they call them Gesses, to di­stinguish them from ours. They are very forgetfull, for being tied so fast by the heeles, they never think of it, but will offer to fly away an hundred times an houre. She hath [Page] so curious a pallat of her owne, as she will not trust any cooke to dresse her fowle for her, but will plume and pick it her selfe with an admirable dexte­rity. If she bee high with too much ease, and grow pursie, shee will physick her selfe, and take a vomit, and thereby come as sound as a Bell. She hath a piercing and rowling eye in her head, but no wan­ton, being so honest: o­therwise shee were like e­nough to have many pa­ramours, who goes so much abroad at her owne pleasure. When she goes a hunting, shee is well at­tended [Page] with many that go with chaines about their necks, by two and two, which they call couples, where they doe no­thing but serve her, and put up her game; yea, the best man in the company will not refuse to toyle and sweat to shew her sport, and of all they take, she is first serv'd. They are somewhat fantasticall, and as their manner is, will take a toy now and then, and go strait beyond seas without a licence, or ta­king leaue of their friends ere they go, where when they come, or returne a­gaine, they are held as [Page] passengers and great tra­vellers, and happy he who can get them into his ser­vice: they never stirre no way but the bels ring. They are watcht some­times, they are so unhap­py, especially when they have not sowed all their wilde Oats. If they bee once reclaimed from their debauchments, they prove notable convertyts, and very obedient to the cure.

IS a huge Colossus or Mausoleon of flesh and bloud to bury quicke in, a certain thing they call life, which like an Artificiall engine within, gives it a motion, and makes it a kind of a moving Pageant in the form of an Elephant. He is the vast Poliphemus or Gogmagog of the Wil­dernesse, but without a Clubbe, while his owne bulke is Club enough to terrifie withall. It is a hulk at land of such a burden, that when it moves it is hard to say, whether the [Page] trees passe by it, or it saile by the trees. He is as the Whale amongst Beasts that might well have waf­ted Ionas through the De­sert had it beene his way to Ninive. The Trojan Horse was not so hand­some and commodious to lodge the Grecian Ambus­cado, as he had been with­in his flanks. It is a living house not tyled without, but pentised rather with oakē boords, not thatch'd because he hath no haire on his backe. He hath no manners at all in him, for he will still be leaning on some tree or other, and is so heavie and lubberly, [Page] that sometimes the tree will fall, and he lye spraw­ling on the ground. He is so stiffe in the hammes, as he cannot make you a handsome legge, nor so much as kneele to his own Father to aske him bles­sing. He can yet make shift to dance if he list, but that so unhandsomely, as for shame of other witnesses hee practises by Moone-light. Hee hath no loftie Galiards with him, but all his revelling is with ground tricks, and then e­specially when hee falls downe flat, as hee often doth. He is very religious, I should say superstitious [Page] rather, for they will flocke in sholes to worship the Moone at full, and the Sunne at his arise. He is a sturdie Porter that will carry you a whole Tower on his backe, and yet will not sweat you a haire for it. He is a good Sword­man, and layes about him in the warres, but cannot weild the two hand-sword nor is any Fencer at all for want of a Dagger hand toward withall. He is a no­table Birder too, for he is never without his trunke in his mouth. But no Rat­catcher, while every mouse will be ready to take him by the Nose, and make [Page] him roare like himselfe. They are not fruitfull, for they breed but once in all their life, and then bring forth but one at once: whence it is they have no Gavelkin tenour amongst them, the occasion of much strife, but every one is heire apparent to his fa­ther, but living as they do three hundred yeares (as they say) they are faine to stay long ere they enter into their lands. In a word, he is so intelligent, and hath so good a memorie and judgement with him, that were he not where I finde him amongst Beasts in our Wildernesse, I [Page] should thinke hee were some one of Vlisses crew transformed into that shape.

IF you take him as he is indeed, is but a point, but an Atome, but a little no­thing that flies in the aire: but otherwise is a vaste Amphitheater, wherein the divine wisedome takes pleasure to shew his omni­potence. He hath a curious pallet of his owne, which makes him so liquorish of humane bloud, which this little Caniball daily and [Page] nightly suckes at others costs. There is something doubtlesse in the fornace of the stomacke of this lit­tle piece of creature, which causeth such a raging thirst as cannot be satisfied. It is a pleasure to see him swim in the ayre, where he flies without flying, or rather the ayre flies for him, and serves him as a Coach to convey him at pleasure. They say he hath wings, but indeed he hath none, for that which is fastened to his backe so, and glued at it were unto his skinne, in forme of wings is no more then aire, and a wind wrought to a stuffe that [Page] hath no name, nor all Chy­na affoords you any such, and that is it, they call his wings. And yet with them he will skimme and vault in the ayre, like a Mounte­banke upon the Stage. He is a notable tilter, and with his launce, will not misse you his adversary, but smite him full on the face, and that so dexterously as you shall not know who did it, being the onely re­creation he takes. This is admirable in him, that the Speare which is felt by night of such as sleep, can­not bee seene by day by such as wake. Hee never puts it in the rest in vaine; [Page] for either he fetches bloud indeed, or leaves some marke of his valour and dexteritie behinde him. He is but a Pigmie or Dwarfe of himselfe, but being on his Stilts, he would make you beleeve he were some body, and so he is indeed, for he is all body and no legges. He hath a voyce notwithstanding like a Gi­ant, and if he be disposed to put it in tune, hee sings you a deepe tenour; and layes out such a throat withall, that shall drowne a Quire of better musicke. The harmony they make of many parts is none of the best, the reason is, be­cause [Page] they have no Treble amongst them, but all trouble and confusion. When they go into the warres among themselves, they keepe no discipline at all, nor march all their troopes in files, but pelmel rush in one upon another, and every one sounds his owne Trumpet. When he sings he would make you beleeve he runs division, being no more then a sha­king of the bodie, through a foolish tricke hee hath got, to dance when hee sings, or to sing when he dances. When he lists to taste a cup of wine, he hath his wimble to pierce the [Page] the vessell that holds his Hipocras, which is like­wise his Quill to sup his Possets. He is an excellent Chirurgion, who with his lancet will not misse you a veine, though at mid­night. He is no good To­bacconist, since what hee takes he lets down, which makes him dogge-sicke. Being bred in the marshes, hee is much subiect to rewmes and grievous de­fluxions of the eyes, and therefore cannot abide a smoakie roome, but will immediately avoid it, and bee readie to breake his necke out of the window for haste. They are noto­rious [Page] rebels, for if they rise once, they chiefly ayme at the head, witnesse the fre­quent ryots they make, e­specially about our heads and faces. Hee is a great whisperer, and teller of tales in our eares, but so as one is never the wiser for them. In fine, they are bu­sie bodies where they have no thankes for their labours.

TAkes his name from his extraction the Mould, being of the anci­ent familie of Adam by the Mothers side. He hath no Armes at all, though he be so anciently descended, nor any legges that he can gar­ter. For his square shoul­ders, he is an Atlas right, for as he shores up the heavens with his, this beares the earth on his backe. Hee is in truth an Engener, who is wholly occupied in Mines and Countermines. Hee is a great Lord, for he is ma­ster [Page] of many burrowes, which meeting together with Streets and Lanes, make up a goodly Citie of his owne, which is not pa­ved, because the Citizens there go all bare-foot. He is a good Ferrier under ground, but bolts no Rab­bets out, because they are Countrey men, and haile-fellowes well met. He hath no eyes that hee can see with, because the Sunne shines not in his Region, and as for Candle-light, he needs it not, because his chiefest trade consists in groping out his worke. The Waspes belike doe hire his vaults and Cellars [Page] to inhabite in, but what rent they pay him, or what Tenants they prove, I can­not tell: but I should think he were even as good to forgo his rent quite, as to demand it at their hands. He is the true Spirit of the earth, that causeth such Earthquakes, as would make a world of Ants be­leeve that Doomes-day were come. He is an Out­law, and a publicke Bando set forth against him, with a reward of fiftie Mara­vedes proposed to any, that shall bring him to the Lord of the Soile either dead or alive. Yea there are some Braves of pur­pose [Page] set a worke to cut them off, and yet as brave as they are, they dare not set upon them, but creep­ing by stealth, and armed with many Stillettoes at once. But yet for my part, I hold them good Swiz­zers that would live con­tented in their Stoves; if they would let them alone: For alas! what would they have them to do. To keepe in alwayes, and never to looke out of doores, were a hard case, while this is all the hurt I see they do.

IS the Paradise among Birds, but not the Bird of Paradise, because not so innocent. Hee is the hea­venly Spheare in feathered things. For if the heavens have one Iris, he wil shew you many Irises at once. Hee is a whole Court in himselfe upon S. George his day, where all is no­thing else but braverie. Or rather is the Knight who rides in pompe at his In­stallment, attended with an honorable traine so awfull and obsequious of him as they even tremble at every [Page] motion of his body. He is very circumspect, but tis but to see who notes him, and very carefull of his carriage, because he knows he hath many eyes upon him. Hee is no Mercer of Cheape-side who keepes a constant shop at home, but a Pedlar rather that carries his packe about him, which he will open every foot, but sells no ware, he sets so great a price upon them. If you looke on them, hee cares for no more; but if you take off your eye once, he will bee in his dumpes straight, put up his packe, and go his wayes. Hee is [Page] no Goldsmith on the o­ther side, who utters plate and that by weight, but a right Ieweller who deales with nothing else but jemmes, a commoditie more light, but yet of grea­ter price. The truth is, ra­ther, he is a true Feather­man of Blacke friers, but none buies at his shop but giddy heads; for the E­strige is more in request, and puts him by his cu­stome. It is a merry world with him, who alwayes carries his Spring about him, where every Feather is a rare Tulip. When he is disposed hee will keepe State, but it is in the Hall [Page] onely all for shew, for in the Dining roome there is but poore doings, because hee spends all on fine cloathes, and bestowes no­thing on his belly. He hath a Turret to his Palace, where his head stands like a Weather-cocke as fickle as it: for it will turne and wind on this side and that side with everie puffe of vanitie. When he hath all his accoutrements about him, you would take him to be a tall ship well rig'd and deckt with streamers top and top gallant, but no Merchant man, because no substance in him. He is ve­ry spruce and neat, and [Page] can abide no sordities at all, and wil make you sport to see how gingerly he wil passe over a heape of dust. He is wise, but tis but in his owne opinion, for hee is such a prodigall that once a yeare he turns bankrupt; and then shall you heare him cry a myle off as one that had lost all. Were it not yet for his pride, hee might be an Angel among Birds, whereas now he is a Lucifer, and altogether as proud as he: which may be the reason he hates the Serpent so much; for proud folkes can never agree to­gether, or else because hee borrowed his head of him, [Page] for where you borrow once, you lose your friend and turne enemy.

IS a right Amphibium; with the Mice, hee is a Mouse, with Birds, a Bird; complying so with both kindes to insinuate him­selfe with either, and by the priviledge so of his double habit, makes an ex­cellent intelligencer for ei­ther State. Hee loves not the Citie, as being, hee thinks, too full of tumults. The Country he likes bet­ter, [Page] and especially the Yeomens houses, where he findes his chiefest rost­meat. He is a great Student by day, but what hee stu­dies I know not, unlesse it be the blacke Art, for hee loves darkenesse, and hates the light: Howsoever hee keepes within doores all the day, to what other purpose I know not. Hee is no great traveller, for hee loves not to goe farre from the smell of the smoake of that chimnie where hee was bred and borne. Hee is a notable good husband, who in an age will not spend you a penny in good fellowship. [Page] If he walke abroad at any time, it is towards the e­vening, where hee will fetch you a turne or two, till he can see no more, and then goes to bed to save candlelight, and perhaps supperlesse too, for I am not privie with his ordina­rie diet. When they are Infants, and but newly weaned from the breast, they feede them with Gnats, a great Regalo with them. They are well toothed, for they bite shrewdly, the reason is, because they are not given to fruit, so as it is a rare matter to heare of a Barber sent for to them to draw a [Page] tooth. He that should see them but even now to walke on the ground like drowned Mice, and imme­diately got up a cocke­horse, not knowing the mistery of their wings, would wonder what up­start fellowes they were, so sodainly prickt up to honours. They see no­thing by day, and it seems as little by night, for they will run full upon you, ere they or you bee aware. Though hee be no Phae­ton, because his wings are not of feathers, nor a Ma­gus because not borrow­ed, or any waies counter­feit or helpt by art Ma­gicke, [Page] yet is he a very im­postour, for who would imagine them to be made of leather? They are most sacrilegious, for they will make no conscience to rob Churches, which they do as often as they come where Lampes are, for they love Oyle beyond measure. There is great a­versions betweene them and the Ants, the reason therof I could never learn, unles it be for that they are both amphibiums alike, while Figulus figulum o­dit; since the winged Ant is a mungrill between the Worme and the Flye, as he betweene the Bird and [Page] the Beast. In fine, though hee be a Batte, hee is no timber, especially of the Plane-tree, which he hates as he hates plaine dealings, which to the vertuous and good is a great jewell.

IS properly the mantle of the Wildernesse; a Stuffe that is either Tapi­strie, Valence, Velvet, or Plush, or rather is all of them, according to the use it is put to. It is ordinarily a winter weare, and then is most in fashion. It is [Page] wrought truely not of Silke, nor woven with Threed or Cruell, but is rather a downy stuffe as will never be thred-bare, though it be worne winter & summer, or whole ages. It is commonly betweene an Olive colour, and a Bea­zar, curiously mingled in the stuffe; not died, but na­turall, and so good the co­lours, that they never fade or change the hew. The Birds make good use of it, who hang their houses with that Dornix, and make it serve for flock beds under their feather beds. The very rocks and stones of the desart are glad some­times [Page] to put on Ierkins of that Freeze, to defend them from the cold. It is a wooll that if it could spin and hold out a threed as well as ours, it would sell as well as Cotsall wooll, and make as good as any Kentish cloath. It were excellent to make Felts with, as I should thinke as good as any Beaver, if wee had but the art to dresse and handle it as it should be. Hee will sometimes seeme to perke up to ho­nours, while he gets him on the tops of houses, but I dare say of no pride, but charity to defend them better from the raine and [Page] weather when they waxe old. He is no greatfeeder, for he will live in the bar­ren'st places, and sterve the whole wildernesse besides, ere he pinch a whit. Hee is never young, or very old, but still keepes the same complexion he had at first, and beares his yeeres ex­cellent well; a good Spring helpes him nothing, nor a hard winter empaires him a whit. He is ever in good state for soule and body no doubt, who seemes to bee so mortified a creature, as to be alwaies ready for the tomb, and yet never comes there, but lives for ever, as one may say, in this very [Page] life, enjoying an endlesse rest. He is most constant in himselfe, and hates incon­stancie in all others, so as by his will hee will have nothing to doe with any such, as appeares by the saying, that a rowling stone gathers no Mosse. To conclude, he hath a good nature with him, and true­ly loves where he takes.

IS a kinde of Serpent, a Serpendo, not on his belly, as pleading not guilty to that curse, but [Page] with his feet, and therfore a footman right. They are great theeves, and live up­on rapine, especially in filching of corne, and if they lived in any other well governed Common­wealth then theirs, they should be sure to be laid in the Iayle for it: but with them all is fish that comes to the net. They haue no King, because they will have none, and that is all the reason they will yeeld for it. They like better of the Republiques, then of Monarchies, for so they may come happily to shuf­fle their owne cards them­selves. They have no gen­try [Page] among them, they live like Switzers lazing in their Stoves or Caves un­der ground. They are true Netherlanders indeed, be­cause their Country lyes under the ground, and somewhat northerly, be­cause likely they see not the sunne for halfe a yeere together. In stead of Em­bassadors, they have their agents abroad, true agents indeed as full of action. Their Common-wealth is not governed by the pre­scripts of Solon, or those of Lycurgus, whose lawes were civill, but rather by the lawes of their corrupt nature. For though they [Page] live now in the time of grace, yet have they no be­nefit thereof, being Athe­ists all. And if there be any that have any feeling of God, it is but while the judgements of God light on him. They scarcely heed any of his precepts, more then crescite & mul­tiplicamini, which they truely observe to the let­ter. Whence it is their common-wealth is so po­pulous, that if they were not very industrious, they might starve for ought I know. They have no state houses amongst them, be­cause no buildings there but caves in the ground, [Page] according to the fashion of that Country. The Boores will assemble to­gether to betake them­selves to severall offices for the publicke good; some to carry corne to their granaries, where a single grain is accounted a load for a sturdy Ant, and he shall brag as much of it, as ours shall do for the carrying halfe a seame of wheat, and if one can­not, two will joyne toge­ther, and carry it between them. They go somtimes to the warres, but gaine more by craft then downe right blowes. They have no flying armies, because [Page] they are foot all, and have no wings, but they have their running Armies, and then it is when they shew their heeles. In fine, they have many enemies, but like the Foxe, fare best when they are most curst.

WHether a tree, or what it is I know not, at least hath great al­liance with them, and some affinitie, as having often matched with many of their stockes: but is indeed it selfe a fatall and unlucky [Page] family to joyne with, as being the ruine of many of them. Hee hath great ambition to linck himselfe with the ancientest houses hee can get into, and so kinde where hee takes, as hee kils with kindnesse. He is a sure friend, for hee never leaves one, till hee hath brought him to the last cast. He shewes him­selfe to bee very amorous, as being full of his embra­ces, but they are trayte­rous complements. Hee reverenceth Antiquity much, and will be alwayes in the gravest company. He hath the honour to be joyned with the Bayes in [Page] Poets wreathes, in their laureat acts. He is a right Noune Adjective, that cannot stand without his Substantive; but yet makes a foule Solecisme, that ne­ver agrees with him in Case, because without; nor in Gender, because of a different kinde; nor Number, because the one is singular, the other plu­rall, being twenty to one. Hee is a very Leech, that sucks the bloud out of the veines, and sokes up the sap and humour so, as the party growes old, and will decay in a short time. There are some Martia­lists amongst them, as ap­peareth [Page] by their valour, who are so warlike, as to assault Castles, scale the wals, and mount the bat­tlements thereof. There is great contestation be­tween him and the Holly, and much part-taking on both sides about prece­dence, and taking the up­per place, which no He­rald will or can, I thinke, take up. Hee is all heart, you would thinke, that makes him so kinde as hee seemes to be, where every leafe is a token thereof; yet he is indeed a very dissem­bler, and a right parasite, who can sooth and claw so for his owne ends, using a [Page] dumbe Eloquence, and ex­pressing with signes and tokens onely, what his tongue, if he had it, would do.

IS a pert companion, and a right pedant, because hee goes in blacke, and wants the gravitie that coat requires. He is a Lin­guist because a man of his tongue, but no Latinist, because his K is no letter in that Alphabet. He is a very spalt, that carries his head so like a shittlecocke, and no marvell, who hath [Page] such a shittle braine of his owne. Hee will stalke you up and downe as he were some bodie, and so he is, for hee hath a bodie, and that is all. He seemes to be a proud Iacke, for what, I know not, unlesse for his Buckram jacket, which he takes perhaps to be right Satin. He goes very spruce, in his Spanish leather boots, but blacke, because suitable he thinkes; and is so neat, that hee weares gamashes over them, of what colour he cares not, though they be red, for so he shall bee more conspi­cuous. Hee hath none of the Dove in him, for [Page] though he be simple, he is not innocent, nor is a Ser­pent, because he hath no malice in him, and yet of the two, is more knave than foole. He is very am­bitious, who alwayes aymes at the soveraigntie of the highest Steeples, which he uses for Towres to looke about him: But is base in other things, who for his Tabernacle, is con­tent to put his head in a hole. The bels he cares not for a whit, who hath a bell of his owne, which when he list to ring out in­deed, they will rattle such a peale, that will even drown the bels of Osney. [Page] They say he is no Gentle­man borne, but a yeoman, and therefore is called plaine Iacke, but they do him wrong, for he will be very tame & gentle; while it is onely his much fami­liaritie with us, that makes him called so: For the truth is, the Chaugh, the Rookes, and they were all of a familie once; but now are three distinct houses, giving the Bill for Armes, but with some dif­ference, whereby the Daw appeares to be of the elder house who hath his with­out any difference at all. In fine, I hold him a good companion, and as the [Page] world goes now adayes, an honest knave.

OR Serpent, is that creature that decei­ved our first Parent Eve. For his skin, he is a right Panther, but yet hath no­thing neare so sweete a breath that ever I could heare of. He seemes to car­rie a whole heaven upon his backe, it being so vari­ously distinguished here and there with little spec­kled clouds, dispersed all over in a s [...]ren night. Hee hath an ill tongue, that [Page] cannot speak a good word of any one, and a shrewd wit with his ill tongue, for betweene jest and earnest, hee will sting one to the quicke, and the worst is, they are such cruell jests he breakes, that they even fester where, they light. He is a right Forrester, for he never goes without his forked Arrow in a readi­nesse, to shoot and wound whom he list, and is so churlish in his office, as it is but a word and a blow with him; and is so full of his windings and turnings to this side and that side, as one knows not where to have him. Hee is some [Page] great malefactour belike, for hee lurkes continually in holes, as if he durst not show his face: but it is in­deed to worke some mis­chiefe when hee sees his time. He is neat in his ha­bit, & when it is a twelve-moneth old, changeth it for a new. Hee hath no sleeves to his coat, and yet is streightly put to it, while he gets it off; but he cares not what paines he takes, so he may be fine, & have a new one. He is esteemed to bee devour, while hee mortifies his body so much, for hee cares not what they do with it, so they spare his head, the [Page] better part, where chiefly his Soule resides. Hee is cold of complexion, but not good of condition, who spits poyson. It is true hee hath an ill name, whereas, were it not for his sting which hath made him to loose his credit so, I see not but for his silver Coat and other habili­ments he hath, he might bee received into Ladies laps, and be hang'd about their neckes instead of a Carkanet.

IS an Apple as well as the rest, though for his sowre condition, he seems to be shut out for an harsh companion. This is the rurall Crab onely, whereas the Towne Crab is of bet­ter respect, as more civill, and knowne to bee of a sweeter nature. Hee is a right Forrester, who is ne­ver seene without a greene Suite, of so good a colour, as will hardly weare yel­low. He is a Painter right, not the Apprentice that makes no faces, but the Master himselfe, who will [Page] make you make a face. He is very rich, who hath so good a stocke with him, whereof he is no niggard, that so freely communi­cates himself to every one, that will but joyne with him, nor shall they ever thrive indeed or fructifie well till then. He would faine turne Vintner, and utter Wine, Cider at least, but tis but Verges, and he no more then a plaine Chaundler. They should be Schollars, for they have great Seminaries amongst them, but have no severall classes, that makes them stand so without order, till they ascend to the Vni­versities, [Page] and then as Gra­duats they take degrees, and keepe their ranks, ac­cording to their standing. He is a generall man, and will close in with everie man, but 'tis for his ends onely to be respected, for of himselfe, hee knowes none will regard him. He is a very Hydra, for cut off his head, and he will have three for one, and those much better then the old: or take him for a Martia­list standing in his file, he is a lame Souldier with stumpt Armes, wrapped up in searclothes, and this after a hot skirmish, when they are put to it, for then [Page] likely they are fetcht off. They are not strong, but yet great bearers; for they will bring forth many children at a birth, but those so weake, as they ne­ver come to any growth. If hee take upon him to make a Tart, he will be as good as his word, for you shall be sure to have him tart enough, and so sterne that all the sugred speeches in the world will not qua­lifie him. Though the Pippin be held to be the king of Apples, yet is the Crab of an ancienter fa­mily then he; as he from whence the Pippin fetches his chiefe bloud, and de­rives [Page] his family; while the Crab is descended from Adams time, from father to sonne, linea recta, with­out any bastardy or attain­der of bloud. He is a right Brittaine, and true native of this Land, and not a Gascoigne come in with the Conquerour; which is the reason they desire to match into his stocke; wheras the Gascoignes of curtisie onely made free denizons, are nothing so regarded for antiquity. He is a very Criticke, who sharply censures every thing, but it is no matter while no man regards what hee saith, being [Page] knowne to have no iudgement with him. In a word, though he hath li­ved thus long, he is a man of no experience, nor hath much knowledge in him, which is so much the bet­ter.

IS a Mimick made by na­ture to play the Ape for his owne ends: the truth is, hee is a true Buffon, as made for mirth. The sport is when he and his Couzin Monky meet together, for they are somewhat of kin, but now there having bin so many removes between [Page] them, their kindred is so worne out, as they are but quater Couzins. Hee is a Savadge in the Wilder­nesse, and in the City he is every thing. In the Wil­dernesse he contents him­selfe with the Coat that Nature hath dressed him with; in the City he will be, as occasion serves: He hath notable cheeks of his owne to make a Trumpe­ter, were it not for a great imperfection he hath, that he cannot hold his breath so long from chattering with his teeth. He is a very sloven, yet he never eates without his cut finger-gloves: He hath but an ill-favoured [Page] foot, and a worse legge. It is to be feared he is much troubled with the stone, for he is a great sit­ter. He would make a good horseman, for hee never gaules himselfe. He hath a good wit, but the great a­gility and dexterity of his fingers is beyond bounds. Wheras others have poc­kets in their slopps likely, he hath his in his Chops. He should bee a Poet, for he hath a running head of his owne, as appeares by the many pranks he plaies. He is no Musician, because he cannot keepe an even stroke; and which is worse would breake all the [Page] strings, were it onely to heare them knap asunder: To conclude, his best trade is a true Comedian, to play a Zany or Pantalon on the Stage, which hee will doe very naturally, and to the life indeed.

DEare to Athens, sacred to Minerva, and the Muse as it were of nightly lucubrations, is yet to o­thers in the day held to be a Prodigy in nature: but portends no more then a massacre of Mice. He is e­ver buckled as it were for [Page] a journey; for hee hath al­waies his riding cloake on, his hood with glasses for his eyes to looke out at, in the spanish fashion. When he perches on a tree, hee sits like a Prince, in his chaire of estate, to give au­dience, which he doth full sore against his will, while every one hath his owne saying, and he without a­ny other reply, faigne to consent with his nod. For he is a man of few words, and when he speakes, hee shewes to have a hollow voyce; unlesse sometimes when he puts it forth, for then hee squeakes right out, and even screeches a­gaine. [Page] Hee loves hunting well, and takes great plea­sure to hallow to the hounds. But for hawking, he hath no maw to it; nor will once come neere that sport, for feare hee prove an Acteon, and become the subject of the game. For quicknesse of sight, though hee yeeld to the Eagle in gazing on the sunne by day, without dazling his eyes, yet hee will chalenge him by moone-light. Hee would make a notable Watch­man at midnight, as nee­ding no other Bels alarum then his owne voyce, nor Mastiffe dogge then his [Page] owne gripe. Though most unfit for a Centinell in warres, because he cannot change his watch-word, while every one that could but hollow, might passe for him. But I should think him apter for a quiet life to pray his nocturnes in the night, leaving the prime and other houres to the Larke, and the rest of the quire of Birds, to sing their Benedicite omnes volucres coeli, to their common Creator.

IS a Gentleman every inch of him; as ancient surely as Adams time; while for Armes, hee hath had a house for Coat ever since, which he bears to this day. He seemes ve­ry stately in the manner of his gate, but hee is not proud. He is cold of com­plexion, because flegma­ticke, which makes him so slow of his pace. Hee is a Scholler, for he keepes his study, though he have no bookes. He is no Accade­micke, though a Philoso­pher, [Page] because not sociable, but rather a Peripateticke, because a walker; but espe­cially a Stoicke, because he carries all whatsoever hee hath on his backe. If hee were confined to his five miles according to the sta­tute, it would trouble him nothing, while hee would travaile where hee list, yet not incurre the forfeiture, or the penalty of the law. He hath indeed a certaine house of his owne, but no setled one, and a faire porch to it, but no doore. Hee is a free-holder, and no tenant at will, or for a­ny terme that is lesse then his life. There is no cove­nant [Page] servants amongst them, but are housholders every one. They have no constant Cities of their owne, while their houses joyne not one to another, as others doe. Though they wander much, and gad abroad, yet they are not included in the Sta­tute of rogues. The Snayle and the Periwincle are much alike, with this dif­ference, that the Snayle with paines carries his house on his backe, and the Periwincle, house and all, is carried with the waves with ease, as held up by the chinne. In fine, they are at peace with all [Page] the world, and have no e­nimies at all; and so like the Hamburgers, trade and travaile where they please; unlesse in a time of famine, when perhaps for better food, they come to be snapt up, and made good prize.

IS the little spirit of the ayre, who will bee here, and there, and every where, in the twinckling of an eye. Hee loves to dwell in the City for soci­eties sake. His house is [Page] built in the manner of the Antipodes, in the vulgar opinion; for as their feet are opposite to ours, of consequence their houses must needs bee turned up­side downe; and so are theirs. They have no windowes, or posterns be­hind their houses, but all their light, egresse, and re­gresse, is at the porch on­ly, where they keep watch with their bils, both night and day, for feare of for­reigne invasion. Their fare is light and easie of digestion, which makes them so active and nimble as they are; not of worms, for that they hold too [Page] grosse and earthly: not of corn, not to put the world to so much cost: nor of flesh, for they cannot in­dure the flesh pots of E­gypt. They hawke, hunt, and fish where they list, as being the Rangers of the Forrests, allowed by na­ture through the privi­ledge of their wing. Hee must needs fly well, that feeds on flyes, who is so fleet, that hee will stay by the way for no mans plea­sure, for hee is alwayes set on the spurre, and, as it were, the Post of the Ea­gles Court. The difficul­ty is, he can hardly stay so long in a place, as to take [Page] his message ere hee goeth, so tickle he is. They are notable Physitians, or Chirurgians, which you will, for they will cure you the blinde, as readily with the herb Chelidonia, as cause it with their dung. In fine, they are welcome ghests when they come first, because they bring in the Summer with them; and never depart without teares when Winter comes.

IS the Atlas of the for­rest trees, for though the Pine and Cedar have a loftier crest, and beare the head more high, yet not so full a breast, nor with so square a paire of shoul­ders. Before Noahs time, it was a good provision for a frugall family. It is even a market of corne and fruit; and a very prodigy among trees, for whereas some have leaves, and no fruit, some fruit and leaves; the Oak hath both. If iron were to be sought for among trees, it would bee [Page] found in the heart of Oak. He is a tree more generous than the Walnut, while the Walnut will endure to be beaten by every boy, and his nuts to bee taken from him: but the Oake will not part with his, till hee let them goe of his owne accord: he beares his yeeres beyond measure, for let him alone, and hee will out passe Methusalems dayes, and oft times wears out many ages and gene­rations of all his neigh­bours round about him. The Eagle willingly will perch upon no other tree then him. He is no Iew, for he loues Porke well, who [Page] feeds so many at his owne cost. He is very stout, that stands so lustily to all wea­thers, nor were it good to anger him, for as formicis sua bilis inest, he hath his gall, yet otherwise patient enough; for if you make him a Mill-post, hee wil patiently beare all; turne him to boards, and he wil humbly lye at your feet, and suffer himselfe to bee trampled on. And which is all that possibly can bee required, hee makes him­selfe a very Holocaust, while hee is sacrificed in the fire, and turned to ashes.

IS a fit Groome for a Princes chamber, be­cause loyall and trusty. He is a fit companion for a Lady, if hee can but creep into her glove, for then shall he bee taken up into her lap; yea, her bosome too, and haply bee kissed, as a better thing. If hee be a right Island, and bee put into the Lyons cut, hee is then no more her servant, but her Guardi­an and Keeper rather; at least he will be her Gen­tle man-usher, to lead her in and out. If shee haue [Page] no children to play with of her owne, hee is like to be her only sport, without the which shee were no Lady. As wee have our Vtopia, the Dogs have an Ile likewise, but not set downe in Mercator; there­fore lost perhaps, or not yet discovered. Hee is a great harkner after newes, and therefore searches the privy pockets of all the Dogs hee meets with, per­haps to understand some tidings from the Ile of Dogs. They had once a language sure, as well as Serpents, but lost their Alphabet as well as they; save S and R, which still [Page] they keep. He is a slave by condition, and made for wayting, and not for rule and command; for hee is most imperious and into­lerable, where hee feeles any power and authority in himselfe, a great token of his basenesse. He is not for suits of law, because hee cannot attend a legall course, but will seeke to right himselfe out of hand. Hee never makes any set duels, or points any field, for all his valour is shew­ed in hot bloud; they are frayes hee makes, not sin­gle combats: yet if they be set on by others, and have their Seconds, for so [Page] they must; they are Ty­rants for fiercenesse. They are very cholericke, and great swearers, but their oathes are peculiar to thē ­selves. In fine, I hold him a good house-keeper, though otherwise of no hospitalitie, that is so rea­die to shake up folkes that enter in.

IS the Iew among Birds, because he hath no pro­per language of his owne, that hee can speake, but what he learnes where he is bred and borne. Yet In­dia is his proper Palestin, that speakes the language he should speake, which because it is so hard, hee hath the lesser difficultie, to frame and accommo­date himselfe to our Lan­guages in Europe. He hath the bignesse of our Doves, but nothing neare the candour and simplicity of that bird: for if hee bee a [Page] foole, hee is also a knave, being waggish and un­happy enough sometimes. Hee is a companion for great personages, & there­fore is taken up in Court, to bee the Princes jester: where he will be very gay in apparell. He weares a­bout his necke a Collar not of S S, for that will not be allowed him, but ra­ther a white silke Rope, which is the cause belike, the Pages so upbraid him for it, in saying, A rope for Parat. He loves all nuts, but Almonds beyonde measure: so as by his good will, hee will talke of no­thing else: When hee a­wakes, [Page] he opens the win­dowes of his eyes, and be­gins to stretch himselfe, now one legge, and then another, like a dottrel, then quivering with his wings, and shrinking in his head into his shoulders in man­ner of an Italian shrugge, shake his eares; and then is he up, for all that day. It is wel he hath such a thick short necke of his owne; else you would verily be­leeve, hee would breake it an hundred times a day, could he peece it together as often: For he will despe­rately cast himselfe from the upper Rope, and dex­terously take hold of ano­ther [Page] beneath with foot or hand, and oftentimes with his very teeth. He is indeed the Ape of Birds, and with his tongue will counterfeit more London cryes, then any Ape shall play tricks. He hath a reasonable wit, and a better memorie, but cannot a word of the book; for he is all by roat, and will con very well by heart. Finally, he is full of his wagers, that if he used the Cock-pit, he would be quickly beggered, for hee will lay twenty pound at every word, when he hath not a peny in his purse.

IS a soveraigne plant of an active spirit, which being set on fire, mounts to the upper region of the braine, and there playes Rex: Where like a Lord of Mis-rule, calling the whimsies round about him, they all play Revell rout together, and thence like a little Sathan, he sends them here and there, as spirits up and downe to work wonders. It is a spice that comes from India, now growne in more re­quest then Pepper is; but will bee sure to pepper [Page] them that take it over much. It makes a verie chimney of the body; else why doe they wash the tonnell so with Sacke. He that useth it while hee playes at cards, shall bee sure to have a flush at all times. It is the very incense of Vulcan, fumed to his honour in a thurible of Cley. It is a Meteor, that being set on fire, makes the Ignis f [...]tuus in mens braines; whereby they cannot finde sometimes the right way out of doores. It is the milke of Tellus, which suckles Mor­tals, with as many tears, as earthen Pipes. It is immor­tall [Page] in a sort, which lives so in his Ashes; and which after death, is so beneficiall to man. The Physitians hold him an Empericke, and but that he finds ma­ny friends in Court, hee had beene exploded from the Colledge long since. They would faine put him out of practise, because they say hee is no Gradu­ate, nor ever commenced in any Act of Physicke: but they strive in vaine; for so long as he is so rea­sonable in his fees, hee will have more practice, though not so full of gain. In fine, had hee but dis­course to set forth him­selfe, [Page] and the infinite cures he workes, Galen and Hy­pocrates might break their Vrinals, and carry his after him.

IS the Lawrel, so deare to Apollo, for his Daphney's sake; so priviledged by na­ture, that even Thunder and lightning, are here e­ven taxed of partiality, and will not touch him for re­spects sake, as a sacred thing. He is a Schollar, and studies standing, for I could not finde that ever he sat to his booke: And [Page] when we see them stand so thicke together in a knot or cluster, then it is they make their Repetitions of the Lessons of Apollo. He is an enemy to fire, because they both are hote and cholericke by nature. Hee is fit for Halls and stately roomes, where if there be a Wedding kept, or such like Feast, he will be sure to take a place more emi­nent then the rest. He is a notable smell-feast▪ and is so good a fellow in them, that almost it is no feast without him. He is a great Companion with the Rosemary, who is as good a Gossip in all Feasts, as he [Page] a trencher-man. Hee is made, as it were, all of tongues, so as had he fit Organs to them, as teeth and lips, it is like with his eloquence, hee would change the whole world, and make them beleeve and do what he list. Of all Fish, hee is very much ta­ken with the Spitch cock; for then hee will bee his owne Cooke, and dresse it, and make the sawce him­selfe. He is fresh and lively, for he is alwayes greene, and beares his yeares wel, for hee will looke you as fresh at sixtie years as at fif­teen. He is a man of excel­lent example, who leaves [Page] so good an odour behinde him; yet he is by Religion a Pagan; addicted to the worshipping of the fained gods, and much versed in that Theology; nor is he altogether free from su­perstition; for he wil make you beleeve that if you put his leaves but under your pillow, you shall be sure to have true dreames. In fine, there is none without some faults; but yet take him with all his faults, and in all the world for some things, you shall hardly finde his fellow.

IS that creeping worme, which with his liquours fils the head with spirits. It is a Lymbecke which distills sweet liquors into those little bottles hang­ing so in clusters. It is the Cloud that holds the showers which falls so plentiously in Poets braines. Bacchus makes him his bosomed friend, while he tenderly hugges him in his armes. Mars makes use of no other Squire then him, to put his sword into his hand, which hee readily doth, [Page] and works you wonders. He is witty and ingenious, and very learned, because well endowed with Scien­ces, who yearly turnes o­ver many a leafe to good purpose. And though outwardly he shew to bee but a plaine fellow, hee is rich, because he hath his vintage every yeare, which puts many Crownes into his purse. He is a good sto­rier in Winter, that hath his Vaults of Wine so un­der ground: But yet pro­digall enough thereof in Summer, when like a good fellow, he brings his Hogs heads to light. When hee is in his Cups hee is verie [Page] brisk, and sparkles againe. He is the Master Scaven­ger of the Citie of mans bodie, and will scowre their gutters excellent well. There are many Counterfeits that passe for Wine, as Cider, Perry, and the like; but are not right, because they derive not from the true ancient stocke of the Vines, who are a great family descen­ded from the time of Noe: Who for Armes beare certaine branches, vert, pendent, charged with the leaves of the same, in a yard, instead of a field. Hee is not humble, for he cannot abide to be tram­pled [Page] under foot; and yet is forced to indure it, that costs him his life; but ri­seth again to have the ho­nour to be brought to the Princes Table.

SEemes in the Senate of the rest of beasts to bee as grave as any of them: but is indeed a slye and crafty Merchant. Hee is the Davus in Esops Co­medies, and the best jests in all those Interludes are fathered upon him. Hee hath the Monopoly of the best blades in his hands; witnesse his figure ingraven thereon, forbid­ding all to sell them with­out his stampe. Hee is so crafty a companion, that he will not be drunke, be­cause [Page] he will not be over­taken himselfe, but still lyes in wayte to catch o­thers: and therefore when men are overtaken with drinke, they are said to be foxed. Hee is a true Pur­veyer, because he provides and takes, not for the King, but for himselfe, upon no price, and there­fore is hated and cursed where he comes. Hee makes no conscience of any shifts; & for a Goose, or a Ducke, or such a matter, it is but a Schol­lers tricke with him to amend his commons with, and so passes it over without any scruple at all, [Page] unlesse hee be taken in the manner, and then proues it a hanging matter, which halters the case quite. Hee is a great Lecturer, but reades to a company of Geese onely, when hee will bee sure to bee well paid for his paines, with a good supper, where some one of his Auditory are present. Hee is very neat in his habit, for he alwaies carries his brush with him, especially when hee rides, for then hee carries it not at his pommell, for that were not fightly, but carries it still at the Crup­per. He hath a slye looke, and a notable leering eye [Page] of his owne; and so good a mar-kman, as likely hee never misseth his ayme. For his eye, hee would make a notable Gunner, but that hee cannot away with a piece, especially if it lie in Ambascado, for that puts him quite out of his play. Hee cannot abide a packe of dogges, which if he should, would cost him his life. He hath his forts and holes to re­tire into, where he feares nothing but counter­mynes to oppose and con­front his; for then hee is brought to a parley with his enemies, and faine to yeeld to hard conditions: [Page] In fine, were the world turned honest againe, and all knavery banished thence, it would be found in a Foxe skinne.

IS the principall of Ro­ses, because the prime and first in her prece­dence; as the Herbinger of Flora, the Queene of flowers. Shee is the true and proper rose of the Wildernesse, where shee is in her element the earth, as fishes in the sea, and fowles in the ayre. Shee is the lowly and humble flower, and if shee want the sweet perfumes and Civits the other Roses have, shee is supplied with a sweeter odour of meeke­nesse, [Page] which they want through the churlish guard about them. Shee is very courteous, and disdaines not the lappe of the Forrest Nymphs that greedily seeke after her, as the Primitias of the Spring. They make a dainty shew with them, when they sit familiarly together with their hand­maids the leaves: But when they take their sister Violets into their compa­ny, then they make an ad­mirable enamell. Shee is a common Prostitute to eyes, but no Strumper, because thereby she loseth no Virginity shee hath, [Page] but still remaineth hum­bly chaste in her mothers lap, till shee bee violently snatcht away, and ravi­shed thence, keeping her integrity still, so long as forced against her will. Shee keepes willingly in the wildernesse, to shunne the company of men, but yet is no Anchoresse, be­cause no recluse, but a right Hermitresse, inhabi­ting in the deserts. Their habit and dressing is suta­ble to the Spring, and the summers approach. In fine, I could wish the Primrose were restored to her former state againe; for then I should hope [Page] the golden age wherein shee flourished in times past, would happily re­turne againe.