He is venerable in his gown, more in his beard, wherewith he sets not forth so much his own, as the face of a city.  You must look on him as one of the town gates, and consider him not as a body, but a corporation.  His eminency above others hath made him a man of worship, for he had never been preferred, but that he was worth thousands.  He over-sees the commonwealth, as his shop, and it is an argument of his policy, that he has thriven by his craft.  He is a rigorous magistrate in his ward; yet his scale of justice is suspected, lest it be like the balances in his warehouse.  A ponderous man he is, and substantial, for his weight is commonly extraordinary, and in his preferment nothing rises so much as his belly.  His head is of no great depth, yet well furnished; and when it is in conjunction with his brethren, may bring forth a city apophthegm, or some such sage matter.  He is one that will not hastily run into error, for he treads with great deliberation, and his judgment consists much as his pace.  His discourse is commonly the annals of his mayoralty, and what good government there was in the days of his gold chain, though the door posts were the only things that suffered reformation.  He seems most sincerely religious, especially on solemn days; for he comes often to church to make a shew, [and is a part of the quire hangings.] He is the highest star of his profession, and an example to his trade, what in time they may come to.  He makes very much of his authority, but more of his satin doublet, which, though of good years, bears its age very well, and looks fresh every Sunday:  but his scarlet gown is a monument, and lasts from generation to generation.

A DISCONTENTED MAN

Is one that is fallen out with the world, and will be revenged on himself.  Fortune has denied him in something, and he now takes pet, and will be miserable in spite.  The root of his disease is a self-humouring pride, and an accustomed tenderness not to be crossed in his fancy; and the occasion commonly of one of these three, a hard father, a peevish wench, or his ambition thwarted.  He considered not the nature of the world till he felt it, and all blows fall on him heavier, because they light not first on his expectation.  He has now foregone all but his pride, and is yet vain-glorious in the ostentation of his melancholy.  His composure of himself is a studied carelessness, with his arms across, and a neglected hanging of his head and cloak; and he is as great an enemy to a hat-band, as fortune.  He quarrels at the time and up-starts, and sighs at the neglect of men of parts, that is, such as himself.  His life is a perpetual satire, and he is still girding the age’s vanity, when this very anger shews he too much esteems it.  He is much displeased to see men merry, and wonders what they can find to laugh at.  He never draws his own lips higher than a smile, and frowns wrinkle him before forty.  He at last falls into that deadly melancholy to be a bitter hater of men, and is the most apt companion for any mischief.  He is the spark that kindles the commonwealth, and the bellows himself to blow it:  and if he turn any thing, it is commonly one of these, either friar, traitor, or mad-man.