he cares not though his master be a
puritan. He practices to make the words in his declaration spread as a
sewer doth the dishes of a niggard's table; a clerk of a swooping dash
is as commendable as a Flanders horse of a large tail. Though you be
never so much delayed you must not call his master knave, that makes him
go beyond himself, and write a challenge in court hand, for it may be
his own another day These are some certain of his liberal faculties; but
in the term time his clog is a buckram bag. Lastly, which is great pity,
he never comes to his full growth, with bearing on his shoulder the
sinful burden of his master at several courts in Westminster.

A FOOTMAN.

Let him be never so well made, yet his legs are not matches, for he is
still setting the best foot forward. He will never be a staid man, for
he has had a running head of his own ever since his childhood. His
mother, which out of question was a light-heeled wench, knew it, yet let
him run his race thinking age would reclaim him from his wild courses.
He is very long-winded, and without doubt but that he hates naturally to
serve on horseback, he had proved an excellent trumpet. He has one
happiness above all the rest of the serving-men, for when he most
overreaches his master he is best thought of. He lives more by his own
heat than the warmth of clothes, and the waiting-woman hath the greatest
fancy to him when he is in his close trouses. Guards he wears none,
which makes him live more upright than any cross-gartered
gentleman-usher. 'Tis impossible to draw his picture to the life,
because a man must take it as he's running, only this, horses are
usually let blood on St. Steven's Day. On St. Patrick's he takes rest,
and is drenched for all the year after.

A NOBLE AND RETIRED HOUSEKEEPER

Is one whose bounty is limited by reason, not ostentation; and to make
it last he deals it discreetly, as we sow the furrow, not by the sack,
but by the handful. His word and his meaning never shake hands and part,
but always go together. He can survey good and love it, and loves to do
it himself for its own sake, not for thanks. He knows there is no such
misery as to outlive good name, nor no such folly as to put it in
practice. His mind is so secure that thunder rocks him asleep, which
breaks other men's slumbers; nobility lightens in his eyes, and in his
face and gesture is painted the god of hospitality. His great houses
bear in their front more durance