ds not. He talks
much of Scaliger, and Casaubon, and the Jesuits, and prefers some
unheard of Dutch name before them all. He has verses to bring in upon
these and these hints, and it shall go hard but he will wind in his
opportunity. He is critical in a language he cannot construe, and speaks
seldom under Arminius in divinity. His business and retirement and
caller away is his study, and he protests no delight to it comparable.
He is a great nomenclator of authors, which he has read in general in
the catalogue, and in particular in the title, and goes seldom so far as
the dedication. He never talks of anything but learning, and learns all
from talking. Three encounters with the same men pump him, and then he
only puts in or gravely says nothing. He has taken pains to be an ass,
though not to be a scholar, and is at length discovered and laughed at.

A HERALD

Is the spawn or indeed but the resultancy of nobility, and to the making
of him went not a generation but a genealogy. His trade is honour, and
he sells it and gives arms himself, though he be no gentleman. His
bribes are like those of a corrupt judge, for they are the prices of
blood. He seems very rich in discourse, for he tells you of whole fields
of gold and silver, or, and argent, worth much in French but in English
nothing. He is a great diver in the streams or issues of gentry, and hot
a by-channel or bastard escapes him; yea he does with them like some
shameless quean, fathers more children on them than ever they begot. His
traffick is a kind of pedlary-ware, scutchions, and pennons, and little
daggers and lions, such as children esteem and gentlemen; but his
pennyworths are rampant, for you may buy three whole brawns cheaper than
three boar's heads of him painted. He was sometimes the terrible coat of
Mars, but is now for more merciful battles in the tilt-yard, where
whosoever is victorious, the spoils are his. He is an art in England but
in Wales nature, where they are born with heraldry in their mouths, and
each name is a pedigree.

THE COMMON SINGING-MEN IN CATHEDRAL CHURCHES

Are a bad society, and yet a company of good fellows, that roar deep in
the quire, deeper in the tavern. They are the eight parts of speech
which go to the syntaxis of service, and are distinguished by their
noises much like bells, for they make not a concert but a peal. Their
pastime or recreation is prayers, their exercise drinking, yet herein so
religiously addicted tha