AN UPSTART COUNTRY KNIGHT

[Is a holiday clown, and differs only in the stuff of his clothes, not the stuff of himself,[35]] for he bare the king’s sword before he had arms to wield it; yet being once laid o’er the shoulder with a knighthood, he finds the herald his friend.  His father was a man of good stock, though but a tanner or usurer; he purchased the land, and his son the title.  He has doffed off the name of a [country fellow,[36]] but the look not so easy, and his face still bears a relish of churn-milk.  He is guarded with more gold lace than all the gentlemen of the country, yet his body makes his clothes still out of fashion.  His house-keeping is seen much in the distinct families of dogs, and serving-men attendant on their kennels, and the deepness of their throats is the depth of his discourse.  A hawk he esteems the true burden of nobility,[37] and is exceeding ambitious to seem delighted in the sport, and have his fist gloved with his jesses.[38] A justice of peace he is to domineer in his parish, and do his neighbour wrong with more right.[39] He will be drunk with his hunters for company, and stain, his gentility with droppings of ale.  He is fearful of being sheriff of the shire by instinct, and dreads the assize-week as much as the prisoner.  In sum, he’s but a clod of his own earth, or his land is the dunghill and he the cock that crows over it:  and commonly his race is quickly run, and his children’s children, though they scape hanging, return to the place from whence they came.

AN IDLE GALLANT

Is one that was born and shaped for his cloaths; and, if Adam had not fallen, had lived to no purpose.  He gratulates therefore the first sin, and fig-leaves that were an occasion of [his] bravery.  His first care is his dress, the next his body, and in the uniting of these two lies his soul and its faculties.  He observes London trulier then the terms, and his business is the street, the stage, the court, and those places where a proper man is best shown.  If he be qualified in gaming extraordinary, he is so much the more genteel and compleat, and he learns the best oaths for the purpose.  These are a great part of his discourse, and he is as curious in their newness as the fashion.  His other talk is ladies and such pretty things, or some jest at a play.  His pick-tooth bears a great part in his discourse, so does his body, the upper parts whereof are as starched as his linen, and perchance use the same laundress.  He has learned to ruffle his face from his boot, and takes great delight in his walk to hear his spurs gingle.  Though his life pass somewhat slidingly, yet he seems very careful of the time, for he is still drawing his watch out of his pocket, and spends part of his hours in numbering them.  He is one never serious but with his tailor, when he is in conspiracy for the next device.  He is furnished with his