of his to save charges; he
rewards the servant by taking him by the hand when he departs. Nothing
under a subpoena can draw him to London; and when he is there he sticks
fast upon every object, casts his eyes away upon gazing, and becomes the
prey of every cutpurse. When he comes home, those wonders serve him for
his holiday talk. If he go to court it is in yellow stockings; and if it
be in winter, in a slight taffety cloak, and pumps and pantofles. He is
chained that woos the usher for his coming into the presence, where he
becomes troublesome with the ill-managing of his rapier, and the wearing
of his girdle of one fashion, and the hangers of another. By this time
he hath learned to kiss his hand, and make a leg both together, and the
names of lords and councillors. He hath thus much toward entertainment
and courtesy, but of the last he makes more use, for, by the recital of
my lord, he conjures his poor countrymen. But this is not his element;
he must home again, being like a dor, that ends his flight in
a dunghill.

A FINE GENTLEMAN

Is the cinnamon tree, whose bark is more worth than his body. He hath
read the book of good manners, and by this time each of his limbs may
read it. He alloweth of no judge but the eye: painting, bolstering, and
bombasting are his orators. By these also he proves his industry, for he
hath purchased legs, hair, beauty, and straightness, more than nature
left him. He unlocks maidenheads with his language, and speaks Euphues,
not so gracefully as heartily. His discourse makes not his behaviour;
but he buys it at court, as countrymen their clothes in Birchin Lane. He
is somewhat like the salamander, and lives in the flame of love, which
pains he expresseth comically. And nothing grieves him so much as the
want of a poet to make an issue in his love. Yet he sighs sweetly and
speaks lamentably, for his breath is perfumed and his words are wind. He
is best in season at Christmas, for the boar's head and reveller come
together. His hopes are laden in his quality; and, lest fiddlers should
take him unprovided, he wears pumps in his pocket; and, lest he should
take fiddlers unprovided, he whistles his own galliard. He is a calendar
of ten years, and marriage rusts him. Afterwards he maintains himself an
implement of household, by carving and ushering. For all this, he is
judicial only in tailors and barbers; but his opinion is ever ready, and
ever idle. If you will know more of his acts, th