st parcel in it. No
citizen's wife is demurer than she at the first greeting, nor draws in
her mouth with a chaster simper; but you may be more familiar without
distaste, and she does not startle at anything. She is the confusion of
a pottle of sack more than would have been spent elsewhere, and her
little jugs are accepted to have her kiss excuse them. She may be an
honest woman, but is not believed so in her parish, and no man is a
greater infidel in it than her husband.

A CRITIC

Is one that has spelled over a great many books, and his observation is
the orthography. He is the surgeon of old authors, and heals the wounds
of dust and ignorance. He converses much in fragments and _desunt
multa's_, and if he piece it up with two lines he is more proud of that
book than the author. He runs over all sciences to peruse their
syntaxis, and thinks all learning com-prised in writing Latin. He tastes
styles as some discreeter palates do wine; and tells you which is
genuine, which sophisticate and bastard. His own phrase is a miscellany
of old words, deceased long before the Caesars, and entombed by Varro,
and the modernest man he follows is Plautus. He writes _omneis_ at
length, and _quidquid_, and his gerund is most inconformable. He is a
troublesome vexer of the dead, which after so long sparing must rise up
to the judgment of his castigations. He is one that makes all books sell
dearer, whilst he swells them into folios with his comments.

A SERGEANT, OR CATCH-POLE

Is one of God's judgments; and which our roarers do only conceive
terrible. He is the properest shape wherein they fancy Satan; for he is
at most but an arrester, and hell a dungeon. He is the creditors' hawk,
wherewith they seize upon flying birds, and fetch them again in his
talons. He is the period of young gentlemen, or their full stop, for
when he meets with them they can go no farther. His ambush is a
shop-stall, or close lane, and his assault is cowardly at your back. He
respites you in no place but a tavern, where he sells his minutes dearer
than a clockmaker. The common way to run from him is through him, which
is often attempted and atchieved, [[75]_and no man is more beaten out of
charity._] He is one makes the street more dangerous than the highways,
and men go better provided in their walks than their journey. He is the
first handsel of the young rapiers of the templers; and they are as
proud of his repulse as an Hungarian of killing a Turk