supplies the only piece of contemporary information about his
person and habits, and all he tells us is that he was short of stature
and that he smoked. But Ben Jonson gives us an unmistakeable caricature
of him under the delightfully appropriate name of Fastidious Brisk in
_Every Man out of His Humour_. He describes him as a "neat, spruce,
affecting courtier, one that wears clothes well, and in fashion;
practiseth by his glass how to salute; speaks good remnants
notwithstanding his base viol and tobacco; swears tersely and with
variety; cares not what lady's favour he belies, or great man's
familiarity: a good property to perfume the boot of a coach. He will
borrow another man's horse to praise and back him as his own. Or, for a
need can post himself into credit with his merchant, only with the
gingle of his spur and the jerk of his wand[134]." Allowing for the
exaggeration of satire, we cannot doubt that this portrait is in the
main correct. It indicates a man who follows fashion, even in swearing,
to the excess of foppery, who delights in scandal, who contracts debts
with an easy conscience, and who is withal a merry fellow and a wit. All
this is in accordance with what we know of his life. We can picture him
at Oxford serenading the Magdalen dons with his "base viol," or perhaps
organizing a night party to disturb the slumbers of some insolent
tradesman who had dared to insist upon payment; his neat little figure
leading a gang of young rascals, and among them the "sea-dog" Hakluyt,
the sturdy and as yet unconverted Gosson, the refined Watson, and
perchance George Pettie concealing his thorough enjoyment of the
situation by a smile of elderly amusement. Or yet again we can see him
at the room of some boon companion seriously announcing to a convulsed
assembly his intention of applying for a fellowship, and when the last
quip had been hurled at him through clouds of smoke and the laughter had
died down, proposing that the house should go into committee for the
purpose of concocting the now famous letter to Burleigh. When we next
catch a glimpse of him he is no longer the madcap; he walks with such
dignity as his stature permits, for he is now author of the
much-talked-of _Anatomy of Wit_, and one of the most fashionable young
men of the Court. What elaboration of toilet, what adjustment and
readjustment of ruffles and lace, what bowing and scraping before the
glass, preceded that great event of his life--his presentati