AN UNTRAINED SOLDIER.

An untrained soldier is like a young hound, that when he first falls to
hunt, he knows not how to lay his nose to the earth; who, having his
name but in a book, and marched twice about a market-place, when he
comes to a piece of service knows not how to bestow himself. He marches
as if he were at plough, carries his pike like a pike-staff, and his
sword before him for fear of losing from his side. If he be a shot, he
will be rather ready to say a grace over his piece, and so to discharge
his hands of it, than to learn how to discharge it with a grace. He puts
on his armour over his ears, like a waistcoat, and wears his morion like
a nightcap. When he is quartered in the field, he looks for his bed, and
when he sees his provant, he is ready to cry for his victuals; and ere
he know well where he is, wish heartily he were at home again, with his
head hanging down as if his heart were in his hose. He will sleep till a
drum or a deadly bullet awake him; and so carry himself in all companies
that, till martial discipline have seasoned his understanding, he is
like a cipher among figures, an owl among birds, a wise man among fools,
and a shadow among men.

A WORTHY PHYSICIAN.

A worthy physician is the enemy of sickness, in purging nature from
corruption. His action is most in feeling of pulses, and his discourses
chiefly of the natures of diseases. He is a great searcher out of
simples, and accordingly makes his composition. He persuades abstinence
and patience for the benefit of health, while purging and bleeding are
the chief courses of his counsel. The apothecary and the chirurgeon are
his two chief attendants, with whom conferring upon time, he grows
temperate in his cures. Surfeits and wantonness are great agents for his
employment, when by the secret of his skill out of others' weakness he
gathers his own strength. In sum, he is a necessary member for an
unnecessary malady, to find a disease and to cure the diseased.

AN UNWORTHY PHYSICIAN.

An unlearned and so unworthy physician is a kind of horse-leech, whose
cure is most in drawing of blood, and a desperate purge, either to cure
or kill, as it hits. His discourse is most of the cures that he hath
done, and them afar of; and not a receipt under a hundred pounds, though
it be not worth three halfpence. Upon the market-day he is much haunted
with urinals, where if he find anything (though he know nothing), yet he
will say somewhat,