Character Writings of the Seventeenth Century Part 19

A BEGGAR.

A beggar is the child of idleness, whose life is a resolution of ease.

His travail is most in the highways, and his rendezvous is commonly in an ale-house. His study is to counterfeit impotency, and his practice to cozen simplicity of charity. The juice of the malt is the liquor of his life, and at bed and at board a louse is his companion. He fears no such enemy as a constable, and being acquainted with the stocks, must visit them as he goes by them. He is a drone that feeds upon the labours of the bee, and unhappily begotten that is born for no goodness. His staff and his scrip are his walking furniture, and what he lacks in meat he will have out in drink. He is a kind of caterpillar that spoils much good fruit, and an unprofitable creature to live in a commonwealth. He is seldom handsome and often noisome, always troublesome and never welcome. He prays for all and preys upon all; begins with blessing but ends often with cursing. If he have a licence he shows it with a grace, but if he have none he is submissive to the ground. Sometime he is a thief, but always a rogue, and in the nature of his profession the shame of humanity. In sum, he is commonly begot in a bush, born in a barn, lives in a highway, and dies in a ditch.

A VIRGIN.

A virgin is the beauty of nature, where the spirit gracious makes the creature glorious. She is the love of virtue, the honour of reason, the grace of youth, and the comfort of age. Her study is holiness, her exercise goodness, her grace humility, and her love is charity. Her countenance is modesty, her speech is truth, her wealth grace, and her fame constancy. Her virtue continence, her labour patience, her diet abstinence, and her care conscience. Her conversation heavenly, her meditations angel-like, her prayers devout, and her hopes divine: her parents' joy, her kindred's honour, her country's fame, and her own felicity. She is the blessed of the highest, the praise of the worthiest, the love of the n.o.blest, and the nearest to the best. She is of creatures the rarest, of women the chiefest, of nature the purest, and of wisdom the choicest. Her life is a pilgrimage, her death but a pa.s.sage, her description a wonder, and her name an honour. In sum, she is the daughter of glory, the mother of grace, the sister of love, and the beloved of life.

A WANTON WOMAN.

A wanton woman is the figure of imperfection; in nature an ape, in quality a wagtail, in countenance a witch, and in condition a kind of devil. Her beck is a net, her word a charm, her look an illusion, and her company a confusion. Her life is the play of idleness, her diet the excess of dainties, her love the change of vanities, and her exercise the invention of follies. Her pleasures are fancies, her studies fas.h.i.+ons, her delight colours, and her wealth her clothes. Her care is to deceive, her comfort her company, her house is vanity, and her bed is ruin. Her discourses are fables, her vows dissimulations, her conceits subtleties, and her contents varieties. She would she knows not what, and spends she cares not what, she spoils she sees not what, and doth she thinks not what. She is youth's plague and age's purgatory, time's abuse and reason's trouble. In sum, she is a spice of madness, a spark of mischief, a touch of poison, and a fear of destruction.

A QUIET WOMAN.

A quiet woman is like a still wind, which neither chills the body nor blows dust in the face. Her patience is a virtue that wins the heart of love, and her wisdom makes her will well worthy regard. She fears G.o.d and flieth sin, showeth kindness and loveth peace. Her tongue is tied to discretion, and her heart is the harbour of goodness. She is a comfort of calamity and in prosperity a companion, a physician in sickness and a musician in help. Her ways are the walk toward heaven, and her guide is the grace of the Almighty. She is her husband's down-bed, where his heart lies at rest, and her children's gla.s.s in the notes of her grace; her servants' honour in the keeping of her house, and her neighbours'

example in the notes of a good nature. She scorns fortune and loves virtue, and out of thrift gathereth charity. She is a turtle in her love, a lamb in her meekness, a saint in her heart, and an angel in her soul. In sum, she is a jewel unprizeable and a joy unspeakable, a comfort in nature incomparable, and a wife in the world unmatchable.

AN UNQUIET WOMAN.

An unquiet woman is the misery of man, whose demeanour is not to be described but in extremities. Her voice is the screeching of an owl, her eye the poison of a c.o.c.katrice, her hand the claw of a crocodile, and her heart a cabinet of horror. She is the grief of nature, the wound of wit, the trouble of reason, and the abuse of time. Her pride is unsupportable, her anger unquenchable, her will unsatiable, and her malice unmatchable. She fears no colours, she cares for no counsel, she spares no persons, nor respects any time. Her command is _must_, her reason _will_, her resolution _shall_, and her satisfaction _so_. She looks at no law and thinks of no lord, admits no command and keeps no good order. She is a cross but not of Christ, and a word but not of grace; a creature but not of wisdom, and a servant but not of G.o.d. In sum, she is the seed of trouble, the fruit of travail, the taste of bitterness, and the digestion of death.

A GOOD WIFE.

A good wife is a world of wealth, where just cause of content makes a kingdom in conceit. She is the eye of wariness, the tongue of silence, the hand of labour, and the heart of love; a companion of kindness, a mistress of pa.s.sion, an exercise of patience, and an example of experience. She is the kitchen physician, the chamber comfort, the hall's care, and the parlour's grace. She is the dairy's neatness, the brew-house's wholesomeness, the garner's provision and the garden's plantation. Her voice is music, her countenance meekness, her mind virtuous, and her soul gracious. She is her husband's jewel, her children's joy, her neighbour's love, and her servant's honour. She is poverty's prayer and charity's praise, religion's love and devotion's zeal. She is a care of necessity and a course of thrift, a book of housewifery and a mirror of modesty. In sum, she is G.o.d's blessing and man's happiness, earth's honour and heaven's creature.

AN EFFEMINATE FOOL.

An effeminate fool is the figure of a baby. He loves nothing but gay, to look in a gla.s.s, to keep among wenches, and to play with trifles; to feed on sweetmeats and to be danced in laps, to be embraced in arms, and to be kissed on the cheek; to talk idly, to look demurely, to go nicely, and to laugh continually; to be his mistress' servant, and her maid's master, his father's love and his mother's none-child; to play on a fiddle and sing a love-song; to wear sweet gloves and look on fine things; to make purposes and write verses, devise riddles and tell lies; to follow plays and study dances, to hear news and buy trifles; to sigh for love and weep for kindness, and mourn for company and be sick for fas.h.i.+on; to ride in a coach and gallop a hackney, to watch all night and sleep out the morning; to lie on a bed and take tobacco, and to send his page of an idle message to his mistress; to go upon gigs, to have his ruffs set in print, to pick his teeth, and play with a puppet. In sum, he is a man-child and a woman's man, a gaze of folly, and wisdom's grief.

A PARASITE.

A parasite is the image of iniquity, who for the gain of dross is devoted to all villainy. He is a kind of thief in committing of burglary, when he breaks into houses with his tongue and picks pockets with his flattery. His face is brazen that he cannot blush, and his hands are limed to catch hold what he can light on. His tongue is a bell (but not of the church, except it be the devil's) to call his parish to his service. He is sometimes a pander to carry messages of ill meetings, and perhaps hath some eloquence to persuade sweetness in sin. He is like a dog at a door while the devils dance in the chamber, or like a spider in the house-top that lives on the poison below. He is the hate of honesty and the abuse of beauty, the spoil of youth and the misery of age. In sum, he is a danger in a court, a cheater in a city, a jester in the country, and a jackanapes in all.

A DRUNKARD.

A drunkard is a known adjective, for he cannot stand alone by himself; yet in his greatest weakness a great trier of strength, whether health or sickness will have the upper hand in a surfeit. He is a spectacle of deformity and a shame of humanity, a view of sin and a grief of nature.

He is the annoyance of modesty and the trouble of civility, the spoil of wealth and the spite of reason. He is only the brewer's agent and the alehouse benefactor, the beggar's companion and the constable's trouble.

He is his wife's woe, his children's sorrow, his neighbours' scoff, and his own shame. In sum, he is a tub of swill, a spirit of sleep, a picture of a beast, and a monster of a man.

A COWARD.

A coward is the child of fear. He was begotten in cold blood, when Nature had much ado to make up a creature like a man. His life is a kind of sickness, which breeds a kind of palsy in the joints, and his death the terror of his conscience, with the extreme weakness of his faith. He loves peace as his life, for he fears a sword in his soul. If he cut his finger he looketh presently for the sign, and if his head ache he is ready to make his will. A report of a cannon strikes him flat on his face, and a clap of thunder makes him a strange metamorphosis. Rather than he will fight he will be beaten, and if his legs will help him he will put his arms to no trouble. He makes love commonly with his purse, and brags most of his maidenhead. He will not marry but into a quiet family, and not too fair a wife, to avoid quarrels. If his wife frown upon him he sighs, and if she give him an unkind word he weeps. He loves not the horns of a bull nor the paws of a bear, and if a dog bark he will not come near the house. If he be rich he is afraid of thieves, and if he be poor he will be slave to a beggar. In sum, he is the shame of manhood, the disgrace of nature, the scorn of reason, and the hate of honour.

AN HONEST POOR MAN.

An honest poor man is the proof of misery, where patience is put to the trial of her strength to endure grief without pa.s.sion, in starving with concealed necessity, or standing in the adventures of charity. If he be married, want rings in his ears and woe watereth his eyes. If single, he droppeth with the shame of beggary, or dies with the pa.s.sion of penury.

Of the rich he is shunned like infection, and of the poor learns but a heart-breaking profession. His bed is the earth and the heaven is his canopy, the sun is his summer's comfort and the moon is his winter candle. His sighs are the notes of his music, and his song is like the swan before her death. His study, his patience; and his exercise, prayer: his diet the herbs of the earth, and his drink the water of the river. His travel is the walk of the woful and his horse Bayard of ten toes: his apparel but the clothing of nakedness, and his wealth but the hope of heaven. He is a stranger in the world, for no man craves his acquaintance; and his funeral is without ceremony, when there is no mourning for the miss of him: yet may he be in the state of election and in the life of love, and more rich in grace than the greatest of the world. In sum, he is the grief of Nature, the sorrow of reason, the pity of wisdom, and the charge of charity.

A JUST MAN.

A just man is the child of truth, begotten by virtue and kindness; when Nature in the temper of the spirit made even the balance of indifference. His eye is clear from blindness and his hand from bribery, his will from wilfulness and his heart from wickedness; his word and deed are all one; his life shows the nature of his love, his care is the charge of his conscience, and his comfort the a.s.surance of his salvation. In the seat of justice he is the grace of the law, and in the judgment of right the honour of reason. He fears not the power of authority to equal justice with mercy, and joys but in the judgment of grace, to see the execution of justice. His judgment is worthy of honour, and his wisdom is gracious in truth. His honour is famous in virtue, and his virtue is precious in example. In sum, he is a spirit of understanding, a brain of knowledge, a heart of wisdom, and a soul of blessedness.

A REPENTANT SINNER.

A repentant sinner is the child of grace, who, being born for service of G.o.d, makes no reckoning of the masters.h.i.+p of the world, yet doth he glorify G.o.d in the beholding of His creatures, and in giving praise to His holy name in the admiration of His workmans.h.i.+p. He is much of the nature of an angel who, being sent into the world but to do the will of his Master, is ever longing to be at home with his fellows. He desires nothing but that is necessary, and delighteth in nothing that is transitory; but contemplates more than he can conceive, and meditates only upon the word of the Almighty. His senses are the tirers of his spirit, while in the course of nature his soul can find no rest. He shakes off the rags of sin, and is clothed with the robe of virtue. He puts off Adam, and puts on Christ. His heart is the anvil of truth, where the brain of his wisdom beats the thoughts of his mind till they be fit for the service of his Maker. His labour is the travail of love, by the rule of grace to find the highway to heaven. His fear is greater than his love of the world, and his love is greater than his fear of G.o.d. In sum, he is in the election of love, in the books of life, an angel incarnate and a blessed creature.

A REPROBATE.

A reprobate is the child of sin who, being born for the service of the devil, cares not what villainy he does in the world. His wit is always in a maze, for his courses are ever out of order; and while his will stands for his wisdom, the best that falls out of him is a fool. He betrays the trust of the simple, and sucks out the blood of the innocent. His breath is the fume of blasphemy, and his tongue the firebrand of h.e.l.l His desires are the destruction of the virtuous, and his delights are the traps to d.a.m.nation. He bathes in the blood of murder, and sups up the broth of iniquity. He frighteth the eyes of the G.o.dly, and disturbeth the hearts of the religious. He marreth the wits of the wise, and is hateful to the souls of the gracious. In sum, he is an inhuman creature, a fearful companion, a man-monster, and a devil incarnate.

AN OLD MAN.

An old man is the declaration of time in the defect of Nature, and the imperfection of sense in the use of reason. He is in the observation of Time, a calendar of experience; but in the power of action, he is a blank among lots. He is the subject of weakness, the agent of sickness, the displeasure of life, and the forerunner of death. He is twice a child and half a man, a living picture, and a dying creature. He is a blown bladder that is only stuffed with wind, and a withered tree that hath lost the sap of the root, or an old lute with strings all broken, or a ruined castle that is ready to fall. He is the eyesore of youth and the jest of love, and in the fulness of infirmity the mirror of misery.

Yet in the honour of wisdom he may be gracious in gravity, and in the government of justice deserve the honour of reverence. Yea, his word may be notes for the use of reason, and his actions examples for the imitation of discretion. In sum, in whatsoever estate he is but as the snuff of a candle, that pink it ever so long it will out at last.

A YOUNG MAN.