without, and therefore hated of the Courtier, that is quite Earle contrary. The time has got a vein of making him ridiculous, 1628 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 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 become a man's Total. He has not humbled his meditations to the industry of Compliment, 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 idly enough to bear her company. His smacking of a Gentlewoman is somewhat too savoury, and he mistakes her nose for her lip. 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, and at tables he reaches not beyond doublets. His fingers are not long and drawn out to handle a Fiddle, but his fist is clenched 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 a Court men for that heinous Vice, being out of fashion. He cannot speak to a Dog in his own Dialect, and understands Greek better than the language of a Falconer. He has been used to a dark room and dark Clothes, and his eyes dazzle at a Sattin Doublet. The Hermitage of his Study has made him somewhat uncouth in the world, and men make him worse by staring on him. Earle 1628 Thus is he silly and ridiculous, and it continues with him for some quarter of a year, out of the University. But practise him a little in men, and brush him o'er with good company, and he shall outbalance those glisterers as much as a solid substance does a feather, or Gold Gold-lace. III A MERE YOUNG GENTLEMAN OF THE UNIVERSITY Is one that comes there to wear a gown and to say hereafter he has been at the University. His Father sent him thither because he heard there were the best Fencing and Dancing Schools; from these he has his Education, from his Tutor the oversight. The first element of his Knowledge is to be shown the Colleges and initiated in a Tavern by the way, which hereafter he will learn of himself. The two marks of his Seniority is the bare Velvet of his gown and his proficiency at Tennis, where, when he can once play a Set, he is a Freshman no more. His Study has commonly handsome Shelves, his Books neat Silk strings, which he shows to his Father's man, and is loath to untie or take down for fear of misplacing. Upon foul days for recreation he retires thither, and looks over the pretty book his Tutor reads to him, which is commonly some short history, or a piece of Euphormio; for which his Tutor gives him Money to spend next day. His main loitering is at the Library, where he studies Arms and books of Honour, and turns a Gentleman-Critick in pedigrees. Of all things, he endures not to be mistaken for a Scholar, and hates a black suit though it be of Sattin. His companion is ordinarily some stale fellow, that has been notorious for an Ingle1 to gold hatbands, whom he admires at first, afterward scorns. If he have spirit or wit, he may light of better company, and may learn some flashes of wit which may do 1 A parasite. him Knight's service in the Country hereafter. But he is now gone to the Inns of Court, where he studies to forget what he learned before, his acquaintance and the fashion. IV AN UNIVERSITY DUN Is a Gentleman's follower cheaply purchased, for his own money has hired him. He is an inferior Creditor of some ten shillings or downwards, contracted for Horse-hire, or perchance for drink, too weak to be put in Suit, and he arrests your modesty. He is now very expensive of his time, for he will wait upon your Stairs a whole Afternoon, and dance attendance with more patience than a Gentleman-Usher. He is a sore beleaguerer of Chambers, and assaults them sometimes with furious knocks; yet finds strong resistance commonly, and is kept out. He is a great complainer of Scholars' loitering, for he is sure never to find them within, and yet he is the chief cause many times that makes them study. He grumbles at the ingratitude of men, that shun him for his kindness, but indeed it is his own fault, for he is too great an upbraider. No man puts them more to their brain than he; and by shifting him off they learn to shift in the world. Some choose their rooms a purpose to avoid his surprisals, and think the best commodity in them his Prospect. He is like a rejected acquaintance, hunts those that care not for his company, and he knows it well enough, and yet will not keep away. The sole place to supply him is the Buttery, where he takes grievous use upon your Name, and he is one much wrought with good Beer and Rhetorick. He is a man of most unfortunate voyages, and no Gallant walks the street to less purpose. John Earle, Bishop of Salisbury. Earle 1628 Digby 1629 FOR AN UNEQUAL COMBAT OR after Theagenes had embarked himself to follow on his intended journey, a favourable wind in a short time brought him to Alexandria; whither he sent a servant one day before him to provide him a convenient house near the Ambassador's, and other necessaries; and the next day came thither himself, and the first thing he did was to go kiss the hand of his kinsman Aristobulus, who received him with all the demonstration of joy and honour that might be, and caused him to stay supper with him; after which he sent his son Leodivius, with many of his servants and torches, to accompany him to his lodging, which was not far off. But the night had slided so insensibly away while they were in their pleasing conversation, it being the nature of long absence of dear friends to cause at their first encounter much greediness of enjoying each other, that when they came out of the house they found the streets quiet and no living creature stirring in them; and the moon, which was then near the full, shining out a clear light upon them, so that the coolness and solitude was the greatest sign that it was not noonday. Wherefore they caused the lights and other servants to stay there, who then could serve but for vain magnificence, and Theagenes sent his servants to his lodging before, while he, and Leodivius, and another gentleman, that Leodivius took with him to accompany him, that he might not return all alone to his father's house, came softly after, sucking in the fresh air, and pleasing themselves in the coolness of the night which succeeded a hot day, it being then in the beginning of the summer: but as they were entertaining themselves in some gentle discourse, a rare voice, accompanied with a sweet instrument, called their ears to silent attention, while with their eyes they sought to inform themselves where the person was that Digby sung, when they saw a gentlewoman in a loose and night 1629 habit, that stood in an open window supported like a gallery with bars of iron, with a lute in her hand, which with excellent skill she made to keep time with her divine voice, and that issued out of as fair a body, by what they could judge at that light; only there seemed to sit so much sadness upon her beautiful face, that one might judge she herself took little pleasure in her own soul-ravishing harmony. The three spectators remained attentive to this fair sight and sweet music, Leodivius only knowing who she was, who coming a little nearer towards the window, fifteen men all armed, as the moon shining upon their bucklers and coats of mail did make evident, rushed out upon him with much violence, and with their drawn swords made so many furious blows and thrusts at him, that if his better genius had not defended him it had been impossible that he could have outlived that minute; but he, nothing at all dismayed, drew his sword, and struck the foremost of them such a blow upon the head, that if it had not been armed with a good cap of steel, certainly he should have received no more cumber from that man; yet the weight of it was such that it made the Egyptian run reeling backwards two or three steps, and the blade, not able to sustain such a force, broke in many pieces, so that nothing but the hilts remained in Leodivius's hand; who seeing himself thus disarmed, suddenly recollected his spirits, and using short discourse within himself, resolved, as being his best, to run to his father's house to call for assistance to bring off in safety his kinsman and his other friend, whose false sword served him in the same manner as Leodivius's had done, as though they had conspired to betray their masters in their greatest need. Here one might see differing effects from like causes, for a like resolute valour without astonishment that caused Leodivius to run discreetly away |