dewell-man,
and the beadle. He is a great stickler in the tumults of double jugs, and
ventures his head by his place, which is broke many times to keep whole
the peace. He is never so much in his majesty as in his night-watch, where
he sits in his chair of state, a shop-stall, and invironed with a guard of
halberts, examines all passengers. He is a very careful man in his office,
but if he stay up after midnight you shall take him napping.

XXI.

A DOWN-RIGHT SCHOLAR

Is one that has much learning in the ore, unwrought and untried, which
time and experience fashions and refines. He is good metal in the inside,
though rough and unscoured without, and therefore hated of the courtier,
that is quite contrary. The time has got a vein of making him ridiculous,
and men laugh at him by tradition, and no unlucky absurdity but is put
upon his profession, and done like a scholar. But his fault is only this,
that his mind is [somewhat] too much taken up with his mind, and his
thoughts not loaden with any carriage besides. He has not put on the
quaint garb of the age, which is now a man's [_Imprimis and all the
Item_.[40]] He has not humbled his meditations to the industry of
complement, nor afflicted his brain in an elaborate leg. His body is not
set upon nice pins, to be turning and flexible for every motion, but his
scrape is homely and his nod worse. He cannot kiss his hand and cry,
madam, nor talk idle enough to bear her company. His smacking of a
gentlewoman is somewhat too savory, and he mistakes her nose for her lips.
A very woodcock would puzzle him in carving, and he wants the logick of a
capon. He has not the glib faculty of sliding over a tale, but his words
come squeamishly out of his mouth, and the laughter commonly before the
jest. He names this word college too often, and his discourse beats too
much on the university. The perplexity of mannerliness will not let him
feed, and he is sharp set at an argument when he should cut his meat. He
is discarded for a gamester at all games but one and thirty,[41] and at
tables he reaches not beyond doublets. His fingers are not long and drawn
out to handle a fiddle, but his fist clunched with the habit of disputing.
He ascends a horse somewhat sinisterly, though not on the left side, and
they both go jogging in grief together. He is exceedingly censured by the
inns-of-court men, for that heinous vice being out of fashion. He cannot
speak to a dog in his own dialect, an