up late but when he hunts the badger, the vowed foe of his lambs; nor uses he any cruelty but when he hunts the hare; nor subtilty but when he setteth snares for the snipe or pitfalls for the blackbird; nor oppression but when, in the month of July, he goes to the next river and shears his sheep.  He allows of honest pastime, and thinks not the bones of the dead anything bruised or the worse for it though the country lasses dance in the churchyard after evensong.  Rock Monday and the wake in summer, Shrovings, the wakeful catches on Christmas Eve, the hockey or seed-cake, these he yearly keeps, yet holds them no relics of popery.  He is not so inquisitive after news derived from the privy closet, when the finding an eyry of hawks in his own ground, or the foaling of a colt come of a good strain, are tidings more pleasant, more profitable.  He is lord paramount within himself, though he hold by never so mean a tenure, and dies the more contentedly, though he leave his heir young, in regard he leaves him not liable to a covetous garden.  Lastly, to end him, he cares not when his end comes; he needs not fear his audit, for his quietus is in heaven.

A RHYMER

Is a fellow whose face is hatched all over with impudence, and should he be hanged or pilloried, ’tis armed for it.  He is a juggler with words, yet practises the art of most uncleanly conveyance.  He doth boggle very often, and because himself winks at it, thinks ’tis not perceived.  The main thing that ever he did was the tune he sang to.  There is nothing in the earth so pitiful—­no, not an ape-carrier; he is not worth thinking of, and, therefore, I must leave him as nature left him—­a dunghill not well laid together.

A COVETOUS MAN.

This man would love, honour, and adore God if there were an I more in his name.  He hath coffined up his soul in his chests before his body:  he could wish he were in Midas his taking for hunger, on condition he had his chemical quality.  At the grant of a new subsidy he would gladly hang himself, were it not for the charge of buying a rope, and begins to take money upon use when he hears of a privy seal.  His morning prayer is to overlook his bags, whose every parcel begets his adoration.  Then to his studies, which are how to cozen this tenant, beggar that widow, or to undo some orphan.  Then his bonds are viewed, the well-known days of payment conned by heart; and if he ever pray, it is some one may break his day that the beloved forfeiture may be obtained.  His use is doubled, and no one sixpence begot or born but presently, by an untimely thrift, it is getting more.  His chimney must not be acquainted with fire for fear of mischance; but if extremity of cold pinch him, he gets him heat with looking on, and sometime removing his aged wood-pile, which he means to leave to many descents, till it hath outlived all the woods