Micro-Cosmography, Part 12 – Part 24
13. A Tauerne.
IS a degree, or (if you will) a paire of stayres aboue an Alehouse, where men are drunke with more credit and Apologie. If the Vintners nose be at dore, it is a signe sufficient, but the absence of this is supplyed by the Iuie-bush. The rooms are ill breath'd, like the drinkers that hauehave been washt wel ouer night, and are smelt too fasting next morning; not furnisht with Beds apt to be defil'd, but more necessary implements, Stooles, Table, and a Chamber-pot. It is a broacher of more newes then hogs-heads, & more iests then newes, which are sukt vp heere by some spungie braine, and from thence squeazed into a Comedy. Men come here to make merry, but indeed make a noise, and this musicke aboue is answered with the clinking below. The Drawers are the ciuilest people in it, men of good bringing vp, and howsoeuer we esteeme of them, none can boast more iustly of their high calling. Tis the best Theater of natures, where they are truely acted, not plaid, and the busines as in the rest of the world vp and downe, to wit, from the bottome of the Seller to the great Chamber. A melancholy man would finde heere matter to worke vponupon, to see Heads as brittle as Glasses, and ofter broken. Men come hither to quarrell, and come hither to be made friends, and if Plutarch will lend me his Simile, it is euen Telephus his sword that makes wounds, and cures them. It is the common cōsumption of the Afternoone, and the murderer, or maker away of a rainy day. It is the Torrid Zone that scorches the face, and Tobacco the gun-powder that blowes it vp. Much harme would be done, if the charitable Vintener had not Water readie for these flames. A house of sinne you may call it but not a house of darknesse for the Candles are neuer out, and it is like those Countries farre in the North, where it is as cleare at mid-night as at mid-day. After a long sitting, it becomes like a street in a dashing showre, where the spouts are flushing aboue, and the Conduits running below, while the Iordans like swelling riuers ouerflow their bankes. To giuegive you the totall reckoning of it. It is the busie mans recreation, the idle mans businesse, the melancholy mans Sanctuary, the strangers welcome, the Innes a Court mans entertainment, the schollers kindnesse, and the Citizens curtesie. It is the studie of sparkling wits, and a cup of Canary their book, where we leaue them.
14. A too idly reseru'd Man.
IS one that is a foole with discretion: or a strange piece of Politician, that manages the state of himselfe, His Actions are his Priuie Counsell, wherein no man must partake beside. He speakes vnderunder rule and prescription, and dare not shew his teeth without Machiauell. He conuerses with his neighbours as he would in Spaine, and feares an inquisitiue man as much as the inquisition. Hee suspects all questions for examinations, and thinks you would pick something out of him, and auoids you: His brest is lik a gentlewomans closet, which locks vp euerie toye and trifle, or some bragging Mounte-banke, that makes euerie stinking thing a secret. He deliuers you common matters with great coniuration. of silence, and whispers you in the eare Acts of Parliament. You may as soone wrest a tooth from him as a paper, and whatsoeuer he reads is letters. He dares not talke of great men for feare of bad Comments, and he knowes not how his words may bee misapplyed. Aske his opinion and he tels you his doubt: and hee neuer heares any thing more astonishtly then what he knowes before. His words are like the Cards at Primiuiste, where 6. is 18. and 7. 21. for they neuer signifie what they sound; but if he tell you he wil do a thing, it is as much as if hee swore he would not. He is one indeed that takes all men to be craftier then they are, and puts himselfe to a great deale of affliction to hinder their plots, and designes where they meane freely. Hee ha's beene long a riddle himselfe, but at last finds Oedipusses; for his ouer-acted dissimulation discouers him, and men doe with him as they would with Hebrew letters, spell him backwards, and read him.
15. A Sharke.
IS one whome all other meanes hauehave fayl'd, and hee now liues of himselfe. He is some needy casheir'd fellow, whom the World has oft flung off, yet still claspes againe, and is like one a drowning, fastens vponupon any thing that's next at hand, amongst other of his Shipwrackes hee has happyly lost shame, and this want supplies him. No man puts his Braine to more vse then hee, for his life is a dayly inuention, and each meale a new stratagem. Hee has an excellent memorie for his acquaintance, though there past but how doe you betwixt them seuen yeeres agoe, it shall suffice for an Imbrace, and that for money. He offers you a Pottle of Sacke out of his ioy to see you, and in requitall of this courtesie, you can doe no lesse then pay for it. He is fumbling with his purse-strings, as a Schoole-boy with his points, when hee is going to bee Whipt, till the Master wearie with long Stay, forgiues him. When the reckoning is payd, he sayes it must not bee so, it is strait pacified, and cryes what remedie. His borrowings are like Subsidies, each man a shilling or two, as he can well dispend, which they lend him▪ not with the hope to be repayd, but that he will come no more. He holds a strange tyranny ouer men, for he is their debtor, and they feare him as a creditor. He is proud of any imployment, though it bee but to carry commendations, which he will be sure to deliuer at eleuen of the clocke. They in curtesie bid him stay, & he in manners cannot deny them. If he find but a good looke to assure his welcom, he becomes their halfe boorder, and haunts the threshhold so long, till he forces good natures to the necessity of a quarrell. Publique iuuitations hee will not wrong with his absence, and is the best witnesse of the Sheriffes Hospitality. Men shun him at length as they would doe an infection, and he is neuer crost in his way, if there be but a lane to escape him. He ha's done with the Age as his clothes to him, hung on as long as he could, and at last drops off.
16. A Carrier.
IS his own Hackneyman for hee lets himselfe out to trauel as well as his horses. Hee is the ordinarie Embassadour betweene Friend and Friend, and brings rich Presents to the one, but neuer returnes any backe againe. He is no vnletter'd man, though in shew simple, for questionlesse, hee has much in his Budget, which hee can vtter too in fit time and place; He is the Vault in Gloster Church, that conueyes Whispers at a distance; for hee takes the sound out of your mouth at Yorke, and makes it bee heard as farre as London. Hee is the young Students ioy and expectation, and their most accepted guest, to whom they lend a willing hand to discharge him of his burthen. His first greeting is, Your Friends are well; then in a piece of Gold deliuers their Blessi…g. You would thinke him a Churlish blunt fellow, but they find in him many tokens of humanitie. He is a great afflicter of the High-way, and beates them out of mesure, which iniury is somtimes reuengd by the Purse-taker; & then the Voyage miscaries. No mandomineers more in his Inne, nor cals his Host vnreuerently with more presumption, and this arrogance proceeds out of the strength of his Horses. He forgets not his load where he takes his ease, for he is drunke commonly before he goes to bed. He is like the Prodigall Child, still packing away, and still returning againe. But let him passe.
17. An old Colledge Butler.
IS none of the worst Students in the house, for he keeps the set houres at his booke more duly then any. His authority is great ouer mens good names, which hee charges many times with shrewd aspersions, which they hardly wipe off without payment. His Boxe and Counters proue him to bee a man of reckoning; yet he is stricter in his accounts then a Vsurer, and deliuers not a farthing without writing. He doubles the pains of Gallobelgicus, for his bookes goe out once a quarter, and they are much in the same nature, briefe notes and summes of affaires, and are out of request as soone. His commings in are like a Taylors from the shreds of bread, the chippings, and remnants of the broken crust: excepting his vailes from the barrell, which poore folkes buy for their hogs, but drinke themselues. He diuides a halfe-peny loafe with more subtilty then Kekerman, and sub-diuides the a primo ortum so nicely, that a stomacke of great capacity can hardly apprehend it. Hee is a very sober man considering his manifold temptations of drinke and strangers, and if hee be ouer-seene, tis within his owne liberties, and no man ought to take exceptions. He is neuer so well pleas'd with his place, as when a Gentleman is beholding to him for shewing him the Buttery, whom hee greets with a cup of single beere and slyst manchet, and tels him tis the fashion of the Colledge. Hee domineers ouer Fresh-men when they first come to the Hatch, and puzzles them with strange language of Cues, and Cees, and some broken Latine which he ha's learnt at his Bin. His faculties extraordinary, is the warming of a paire of Cards, and telling out a doozen of Counters for Post and Paire, and no man is more methodicall in these businesses. Thus hee spends his age, till the …appe of it is runne out, and then a fresh one is set abroach.
18. An vp-start Countrey Knight.
HIs honour was somewhat preposterous, for hee bare the Kings sword before he had armes to wield it; yet being once laid ore the shoulder with a Knighthood, he finds the Herauld his friend. His father was a man of good stocke, though but a Tanner, or Vsurer; hee purchast the Land, and his son the Title. He ha's do…t off the name of a Clowne, but the looke not so easie, and his face beares still a relish of Churne-milke. Hee is garded with more gold lace then all the Gentlemen o'th Country, yet his body makes his clothes stil out of fashion. His house-keeping is seene much in the distinct families of Dogges, and Seruing-men attendant on their kennels, and the deepenesse of their throats is the depth of his discourse. A Hauke he esteemes the true burthen of Nobility, and is exceeding ambitious to seeme delighted in the sport, and hauehave his fist glou'd with his Iesses. A Iustice of peace hee is to domineere in his Parish, and doe his neighbour wrong with more right. And very scandalous he is in his authority, for no sinne almost which hee will not commit. Hee will be drunke with his hunters for company, and staine his Gentility with droppings of Ale. He is fearfull of being Sheriffe of the Shire by instinct, and dreads the Size-weeeke as much as the Prisoner. In summe, he is but a clod of his owne earth, or his Land is the Dunghill, and he the Cocke that crowes ouer it. And commonly his race is quickly runne, and his Childrens Children, though they scape hanging, returne to the place from whence they came.
19. A Gallant.
IS one that was born and shapt for his cloathes: and if Adam had not falne, had liu'd to no purpose. Hee gratulates therefore the first sinne, and figleaues that were an occasion of brauery. His first care is his dresse, the nex… his bodie, and in the vniting of these two lies his soule and its faculties. He obserues London trulier then the Termers, and his businesse is the street: the Stage, the Court, and those places where a proper man is best showne. If hee be qualified in gaming extraordinary, he is so much the more gentile and compleate, and hee learnes the best oathes for the purpose. These are a great part of his discourse, & he is as curious in their newnesse as the fashion. His other talke is Ladies and such pretty things, or some iest at a Play. His Pick-tooth beares a great part in his discourse, so does his body; the vpper parts whereof are as starcht as his linnen, and perchance vse the same Laundresse. Hee has learnt to ruffle his face from his Boote, and takes great delight in his walke to heare his Spurs gingle. Though his life passe somewhat slidingly, yet he seemes very carefull of the time, for hee is still drawing his Watch out of his Poket, and spends part of his houres in numbring them. He is one neuer serious but with his Taylor, when hee is in conspiracie for the next deuice. He is furnisht his Iests, as some wanderer with Sermons, some three for all Congregations, one especially against the Scholler, a man to him much ridiculous, whome hee knowes by no other definition, but a silly fellow in blacke. He is a kind of walking Mercers Shop, and shewes you one Stuffe to day, and another tomorrow; an ornament to the roomes he comes in, as the faire Bed and Hangings be; and is meerely ratable accordingly, fiftie or an hundred Pound as his suit is. His maine ambition is to get a Knight-hood, and then an olde Ladie, which if he be happy in, he fils the Stage and a Coach so much longer. Otherwise, himselfe and his Cloathes grow stale together, and he is buried commonly ere hee dies in the Gaole, or the Country.
20. A Constable.
IS a Vice-roy in the street, and no man stands more vpon't that he is the Kings Officer. His iurisdiction extends to the next stocks, where he ha's Commission for the heeles onelyonly, and sets the rest of the body at liberty. Hee is a scar-crow to that Alehouse, where he drinkes not his mornings draught, and apprehends a Drunkard for not standing in the Kings name. Beggers feare him more then the Iustice, and as much as the Whip-stocke, whom hee deliuers ouer to his subordinate Magistrates, the Bride-wel-man, and the Beadle. Hee is a great stickler in the tumults of double Iugges, and venters his head by his Place, which is broke many times to keep whole the peace. He is neuer so much in his Maiesty as in his Night-watch, where hee sits in his Chayre of State, a Shop-stall, and inuiron'd with a guard of Halberts, examines all passengers. He is a very carefull man in his Office, but if hee stay vp after midnight, you shall take him napping.
21. A downe right Sholler.
IS one that has much learning in the Ore, vnwrought and vntryde, which time and experience fashions and refines. He is good mettall in the inside, though rough & vnscour'd without, and therefore hated of the Courtier, that is quite contrarie. The time has got a veine of making him ridiculous, and men laugh at him by tradition, and no vnluckie absurdity, but is put vponupon his profession, and done like a Scholler. But his fault is onelyonly this, that his mind is somewhat much taken vp with his mind, and his thoughts not loaden with any carriage besides. Hee has not put on the quaint Garbe of the Age, which is now become a mans Totall. He has not humbled his Meditations to the industrie of Complement, not afflicted his braine in an elaborate legge. His body is not set vponupon nice Pinnes, to bee turning and flexible for eueryevery motion, but his scrape is homely, and his nod worse. He cannot kisse his hand and cry Madame, nor talke idly enough to beare her company. His smacking of a Gentle-woman is somewhat too sauory, and he mistakes her nose for her lippe. A very Woodcock would puzzle him in caruing, and hee wants the logicke of a Capon. He has not the glib faculty of sliding ouer a tale, but his words come squeamishly out of his mouth, and the laughter commonly before the iest. He names this word Colledge too often, and his discourse beats too much on the Vniuersity. The perplexity of mannerlinesse will not let him feed, and he is sharpe set at an Argument when hee should cut his meate. He is discarded for a gamester at all games but one and thirty, and at tables he reaches not beyond doublets. His fingers are not long and drawn out to handle a Fiddle, but his fist is clunch't with the habite of disputing. He ascends a Horse somwhat sinisterly, though not on the left side, and they both goe iogging in griefe together. He is exceedingly censur'd by the Innes a Court men, for that hainous Vice being out of fashion. Hee cannot speake to a Dogge in his owne Dialect, and vnderstands Greeke better then the language of a Falconer. Hee has beene vsed to a darke roome, and darke Clothes, and his eyes dazzle at a Sattin Doublet. The Hermitage of his Study, has made him somwhat vncouth in the world, and men make him worse by staring on him. Thus is he silly and ridiculous, and it continues with him for some quarter of a yeare, out of the Vniuersitie. But practise him a little in men, and brush him ore with good companie, and hee shall out-ballance those glisterers as much as a solid substance do's a feather, or Gold Gold-lace.
22. A Player.
HE knows the right vse of the World, where in he comes to play a part and so away. His life is not idle for it is all Action, and no man need be more wary in his doings, for the eyes of all men are vponupon him. His Profession ha's in it a kind of contradiction, for none is more dislik'd, and yet none more applauded; and he ha's this misfortude of some Scholler, too much wit makes him a foole. He is like our painting Gentle-women, seldome in his owne face, seldomer in his cloathes, and he pleases, the better hee counterfeits, except onelyonly when he is disguis'd with straw for gold lace. Hee do's not only personate on the Stage, but sometime in the Street, for he is mask'd still in the habit of a Gentleman. His Parts find him oathes and good words, which he keeps for his vse and Discourse, and makes shew with them of a fashionable Companion. He is tragicall on the Stage, but rampant in the Tyring-house, and sweares oathes there which he neuer con'd. The waiting women Spectators are ouer-eares in louelove with him, and Ladies send for him to act in their Chambers. Your Innes of Court men were vndone but for him, hee is their chiefe guest and imployment, and the sole busines that makes them Afternoones men; The Poet only is his Tyrant, and he is bound to make his friends friend drunk at his charges. Shroue-tuesday hee feares as much as the Baudes, and Lent is more damage to him then the Butcher. He was neuer so much discredited as in one Act, & that was of Parliament, which giues Hostlers Priuiledge before him, for which hee abhors it more then a corrupt Iudge. But to giuegive him his due, one wel-furnisht Actor has enough in him for fiue common Gentlemen, and if he hauehave a good body for sixe, and for resolution, hee shall Challenge any Cato, for it has beene his practise to die brauely.
23. A Detractor.
IS one of a more cunning and actiue enuy, wherewith he gnaws not foolishly himselfe, but throwes it abroad and would hauehave it blister others. He is commonly some weake parted fellow, and worse minded, yet is strangely ambitious to match others, not by mounting their worth, but bringing them down with his Tongue to his owne poorenesse. Hee is indeed like the red Dragon that pursued the woman, for when hee cannot ouerreach another, hee opens his mouth and throwes a flood after to drowne him. You cannot anger him worse then to do well, and hee hates you more bitterly for this, then if you had cheated him of his patrimony with your owne discredit. He is alwayes slighting the generall opinion, and wondring why such and such men should bee applauded. Commend a good Diuine, hee cryes Postilling, a Philologer Pedantrie, a Poet Ryming, a Schoole man dull wrangling, a sharpe conceite, Boy-ishnesse; an honest Man pla…sibilitie. Hee comes to Publique things not to learne, but to catch, and if there bee but one soloecisme, that's all he carries away. Hee lookes on all things with a prepared sowrenesse, and is still furnisht with a Pish before hand, or some musty Prouerbe that dis-relishes all things whatsoeuer. If feare of the company make him second a commendation, it is like a Law-writ, alwaies with a clause and exception, or to smooth his way to some greater scandall. Hee will grant you somthing, and bate more; and this bating shal in conclusion take away all hee granted. His speech concludes still with an Oh but, and I coud wish one thing amended; and this one thing shal be enough to deface all his former commendations. Hee will bee very inward with a man to fish some bad out of him, and make his slanders hereafter more authenticke, when it is said a friend reported it. He will inueigle you to naughtinesse to get your good name into his clutches, and make you drunk to shew you reeling. He passes the more plausibly because all men hauehave a smatch of his humour, and it is thought freenes which is malice. If he can say nothing of a man, hee will seeme to speak riddles, as if he could tell strange stories if he would: and when he has rackt his inuention to the vttermost, hee ends: But I wish him well, and therfore must hold my peace. He is alwayes listning and enquiring after men, and suffers not a cloake to passe by him vnexamin'd. In briefe, hee is one that has lost all good himselfe, and is loth to find it in another.
24. A meere young Genman of the Vniuersitie.
IS one that comes there to weare a gown, and to say hereafter, he has beene at the Vniuersitie. His Father sent him thither, because hee heard there were the best Fencing and Dancing-Schooles, from these he has his Education, from his Tutor the ouer-sight. The first Element of his knowledge is to be shewne the Colledges, and initiated in a Tauerne by the way, which hereafter hee wil learne of himselfe. The two markes of his Senioritie, is the bare Veluet of his gowne, and his proficiencie at Tennis, where when hee can once play a Set, he is a Fresh-man no more. His Studie has commonly handsome Shelues, his Bookes near Silke strings, which he shewes to his Fathers man, and is loth to vntye or take downe for feare of misplacing. VponUpon foule dayes for recreation hee retyres thither, and looks ouer the prety booke his Tutor Reades to him, which is commonly some short Historie, or a piece of Euphormio; for which his Tutor giues him Money to spend next day. His maine loytering is at the Library, where he studies Armes and bookes of Honour, and turnes a Gentleman-Critick in Pedigrees. Of all things he endures not to bee mistaken for a Scholler, and hates a black suit though it be of Sattin. His companion is ordinarily some stale fellow, that ha's beene notorious for an Ingle to gold hatbands, whom he admires at first, afterward scornes. If hee hauehave spirit or wit, he may light of better company, and may learne some flashes of wit, which may doe him Knights seruice in the Country hereafter. But hee is now gon to the Inns of Court, where he studies to forget what hee learn'd before, his acquaintance and the fashion.
25. A Pot-Poet.
IS the dreggs of wit; yet mingled with good drink mae hauehave some relish. His Inspirations are more reall then others; for they doe but faine a God, but he has his by him. His Verses run like the Tap, and his inuention as the Barrell, ebs and flowes at the mercy of the spiggot. In thin drinke hee aspires not aboue a Ballad, but a cup of Sacke inflames him, and sets his Muse and Nose a fire together. The Presse is his Mint, and stamps him now and then a sixe pence or two in reward of the baser coyne his Pamphlet. His Workes woul… … sell for three halfe-pence, though they are giuen oft for three Shillings, but for the prety Title that allures the Country Gentleman: and for which the Printer maintaines him in Ale a fortnight. His Verses are like his clothes, miserable Cento's and patches, yet their pace is not altogether so hobbling as an Almanacks. The death of a great man or the burning of a house furnish him with an Argument, and the nine Muses are out strait in mourning gownes, and Melpomine cryes Fire, Fire. His other Poems are but Briefs in Rime, and like the poore Greekes collections to redeeme from captiuity. He is a man now much imploy'd in commendations of our Nauy, and a bitter inueigher against the Spaniard. His frequent'st Workes goe out in single sheets, and are chanted from market to market, to a vile tune, and a worse throat, whilst the poore Country wench melts like her butter to heare them. And these are the Stories of some men of Tyburne, or a strange Monster out of Germany: or sitting in a Baudy-house; hee writes Gods Iudgements. Hee ends at last in some obscure painted Cloth, to which himselfe made the Verses, and his life like a Canne too full spils vponupon the bench. He leaues twenty shillings on the score, which my Hostesse looses.