there stands his music
most upon crochets. The companion of his travels is some foul sun-burnt
quean, that, since the terrible statute, recanted gipseyism and is
turned pedlaress. So marches he all over England with his bag and
baggage. His conversation is unreprovable, for he is ever mending. He
observes truly the statutes, and therefore he can rather steal than beg,
in which he is unremovably constant in spite of whip or imprisonment;
and so a strong enemy to idleness, that in mending one hole he had
rather make three than want work, and when he hath done, he throws the
wallet of his faults behind him. He embraceth naturally ancient custom,
conversing in open fields and lowly cottages. If he visit cities or
towns, 'tis but to deal upon the imperfections of our weaker vessels.
His tongue is very voluble, which with canting proves him a linguist. He
is entertained in every place, but enters no further than the door, to
avoid suspicion. Some will take him to be a coward, but believe it, he
is a lad of metal; his valour is commonly three or four yards long,
fastened to a pike in the end for flying off. He is provident, for he
will fight but with one at once, and then also he had rather submit than
be counted obstinate. To conclude, if he escape Tyburn and Banbury, he
dies a beggar.

AN APPARITOR

Is a chick of the egg abuse, hatched by the warmth of authority; he is a
bird of rapine, and begins to prey and feather together. He croaks like
a raven against the death of rich men, and so gets a legacy
unbequeathed. His happiness is in the multitude of children, for their
increase is his wealth, and to that end he himself yearly adds one. He
is a cunning hunter, uncoupling his intelligencing hounds under hedges,
in thickets and cornfields, who follow the chase to city suburbs, where
often his game is at covert; his quiver hangs by his side stuffed with
silver arrows, which he shoots against church-gates and private men's
doors, to the hazard of their purses and credit. There went but a pair
of shears between him and the pursuivant of hell, for they both delight
in sin, grow richer by it, and are by justice appointed to punish it;
only the devil is more cunning, for he picks a living out of others'
gains. His living lieth in his eye, which (like spirits) he sends
through chinks and keyholes to survey the places of darkness; for which
purpose he studieth the optics, but can discover no colour but black,
for the pure white