but somewhat faster.  That he be a complete gallant in all points, cap-a-pie, witness his horsemanship and the wearing of his weapons.  He is commonly long-winded, able to speak more with ease than any man can endure to hear with patience.  University jests are his universal discourse, and his news the demeanour of the proctors.  His phrase, the apparel of his mind, is made of divers shreds, like a cushion, and when it goes plainest it hath a rash outside and fustian linings.  The current of his speech is closed with an ergo; and, whatever be the question, the truth is on his side.  It is a wrong to his reputation to be ignorant of anything; and yet he knows not that he knows nothing.  He gives directions for husbandry, from Virgil’s “Georgics;” for cattle, from his “Bucolics;” for warlike stratagems, from his “AEneids” or Caesar’s “Commentaries.”  He orders all things and thrives in none; skilful in all trades and thrives in none.  He is led more by his ears than his understanding, taking the sound of words for their true sense, and does therefore confidently believe that Erra Pater was the father of heretics, Radulphus Agricola a substantial farmer, and will not stick to aver that Systemo’s Logic doth excel Keckerman’s.  His ill-luck is not so much in being a fool, as in being put to such pains to express it to the world, for what in others is natural, in him (with much ado) is artificial.  His poverty is his happiness, for it makes some men believe that he is none of fortune’s favourites.  That learning which he hath was in non age put in backward like a glyster, and it’s now like ware mislaid in a pedlar’s pack; a has it, but knows not where it is.  In a word, his is the index of a man and the title-page of a scholar, or a puritan in morality—­much in profession, nothing in practice.

A TINKER

Is a movable, for he hath no abiding-place; by his motion he gathers heat, thence his choleric nature.  He seems to be very devout, for his life is a continual pilgrimage, and sometimes in humility goes barefoot, thereon making necessity a virtue.  His house is as ancient as Tubal Cain’s, and so is a renegade by antiquity:  yet he proves himself a gallant, for he carries all his wealth upon his back; or a philosopher, for he bears all his substance about him.  From his art was music first invented, and therefore he is always furnished with a song, to which his hammer keeping tune, proves that he was the first founder for the kettledrum.  Note, that where the best ale is, there stands his music most upon crochets.  The companion of his travels is some foul sun-burnt quean, that, since the terrible statute, recanted gipseyism and is turned pedlaress.  So marches he all over England with his bag and baggage.  His conversation is unreprovable, for he is ever mending.  He observes truly the statutes, and therefore he can rather steal than beg, in which he is unremovably constant in spite