His shop is his well stuft book, and himself the title-page of it, or index.  He utters much to all men, though he sells but to a few, and intreats for his own necessities, by asking others what they lack.  No man speaks more and no more, for his words are like his wares, twenty of one sort, and he goes over them alike to all comers.  He is an arrogant commender of his own things; for whatsoever he shows you is the best in the town, though the worst in his shop.  His conscience was a thing that would have laid upon his hands, and he was forced to put it off, and makes great use of honesty to profess upon.  He tells you lies by rote, and not minding, as the phrase to sell in and the language he spent most of his years to learn.  He never speaks so truly as when he says he would use you as his brother; for he would abuse his brother, and in his shop thinks it lawful.  His religion is much in the nature of his customer’s, and indeed the pander to it:  and by a mis-interpreted sense of scripture makes a gain of his godliness.  He is your slave while you pay him ready money, but if he once befriend you, your tyrant, and you had better deserve his hate than his trust.

A BLUNT MAN

Is one whose wit is better pointed than his behaviour, and that coarse and unpolished, not out of ignorance so much as humour.  He is a great enemy to the fine gentleman, and these things of compliment, and hates ceremony in conversation, as the Puritan in religion.  He distinguishes not betwixt fair and double dealing, and suspects all smoothness for the dress of knavery.  He starts at the encounter of a salutation as an assault, and beseeches you in choler to forbear your courtesy.  He loves not any thing in discourse that comes before the purpose, and is always suspicious of a preface.  Himself falls rudely still on his matter without any circumstance, except he use an old proverb for an introduction.  He swears old out-of date innocent oaths, as, by the mass! by our lady! and such like, and though there be lords present, he cries, my masters!  He is exceedingly in love with his humour, which makes him always profess and proclaim it, and you must take what he says patiently, because he is a plain man.  His nature is his excuse still, and other men’s tyrant; for he must speak his mind, and that is his worst, and craves your pardon most injuriously for not pardoning you.  His jests best become him, because they come from him rudely and unaffected; and he has the luck commonly to have them famous.  He is one that will do more than he will speak, and yet speak more than he will hear; for though he love to touch others, he is touchy himself, and seldom to his own abuses replies but with his fists.  He is as squeazy[74] of his commendations, as his courtesy, and his good word is like an eulogy in a satire.  He is generally better favoured than he favours, as being commonly well expounded in his bitterness,