16. A shepheard.

17. A jealous man.

18. A chamberlaine.

19. A mayde.

20. A bayley.

21. A countrey fayre.

22. A countrey alehouse.

23. A horse-race.

24. A farmer's daughter.

25. A keeper.

26. A gentleman's house in the countrey.

_The Additions to the second Edition are_,

27. A fine dame.

28. A country dame.

29. A gardiner.

30. A captaine.

31. A poore village.

32. A merry man.

33. A scrivener.

34. The tearme.

35. A mower.

36. A happy man.

37. An arrant knave.

38. An old waiting gentlewoman.

"THE TEARME

Is a time when Justice keeps open court for all commers, while her sister Equity strives to mitigate the rigour of her positive sentence. It is called the Tearme, because it does end and terminate busines, or else because it is the _Terminus_ ad quem, that is, the end of the countrey man's journey, who comes up to the Tearme, and with his hobnayle shooes grindes the faces of the poore stones, and so returnes againe. It is the soule of the yeare, and makes it quicke, which before was dead. Inkeepers gape for it as earnestly as shelfish doe for salt water after a low ebbe.

It sends forth new bookes into the world, and replenishes Paul's walke with fresh company, where _Quid novi?_ is their first salutation, and the weekely newes their chiefe discourse. The tavernes are painted against the tearme, and many a cause is argu'd there and try'd at that barre, where you are adjudg'd to pay the costs and charges, and so dismist with 'welcome gentlemen.' Now the citty puts her best side outward, and a new play at the Blackfryers is attended on with coaches. It keepes watermen from sinking and helpes them with many a fare voyage to Westminster. Your choyse beauties come up to it onely to see and be seene, and to learne the newest fashion, and for some other recreations. Now monie that has beene long sicke and crasie, begins to stirre and walke abroad, especially if some young prodigalls come to towne, who bring more money than wit.

Lastly, the tearme is the joy of the citty, a deare friend to countrymen, and is never more welcome than after a long vacation."

FOOTNOTES:

[DL] Vol. 5, p. 372. Mr. Park says that the plan of the characters was undoubtedly derived from that of Overbury, but, he adds, the execution is greatly superior. Four stanzas from the poem ent.i.tled, _A Maid_, are printed in the same volume.

[DM] An account of the author may be found in the _Athenae Oxon._ Vol. 1.

col. 640.

xiii. _London and Country corbonadoed and quartered into seuerall Characters. By Donald Lupton, 8vo. 1632._

[See British Bibliographer, i. 464; and Brand's Sale Catalogue, page 66, No. 1754.]

xiv. _Character of a Gentleman_, appended to Brathwait's _English Gentleman_, 4to. _London, by Felix Kyngston, &c. 1633._

xv. "_A strange Metamorphosis of Man, transformed into a Wildernesse.

Deciphered in Characters. London, Printed by Thomas Harper, and are to be sold by Lawrence Chapman at his shop in Holborne, 1634._"

[12mo. containing pp. 296, not numbered.]

This curious little volume has been noticed by Mr. Haslewood, in the _Censura Literaria_ (vii. 284.) who says, with justice, that a rich vein of humour and amus.e.m.e.nt runs through it, and that it is the apparent lucubration of a pen able to perform better things. Of the author's name I have been unable to procure the least intelligence.

"THE HORSE (No. 16.)

Is a creature made, as it were, in waxe. When Nature first framed him, she took a secret complacence in her worke. He is even her master-peece in irracionall things, borrowing somewhat of all things to set him forth. For example, his slicke bay coat hee tooke from the chesnut; his necke from the rainbow, which perhaps make him rain so wel. His maine belike he took from _Pegasus_, making him a hobbie to make this a compleat gennet[DN], which main he weares so curld, much after the women's fashions now adayes; this I am sure of howsoever, it becomes them, [and] it sets forth our gennet well. His legges he borrowed of the hart, with his swiftnesse, which makes him a true courser indeed. The starres in his forehead hee fetcht from heaven, which will not be much mist, there being so many. The little head he hath, broad breast, fat b.u.t.tocke, and thicke tayle are properly his owne, for he knew not where to get him better. If you tell him of the hornes he wants to make him most compleat, he scornes the motion, and sets them at his heele. He is well shod especially in the upper leather, for as for his soles, they are much at reparation, and often faine to be removed. Nature seems to have spent an apprentiship of yeares to make you such a one, for it is full seven yeares ere hee comes to this perfection, and be fit for the saddle: for then (as we,) it seemes to come to the yeares of discretion, when he will shew a kinde of rationall judgement with him, and if you set an expert rider on his backe, you shall see how sensiblie they will talke together, as master and scholler. When he shall be no sooner mounted and planted in the seat with the reins in one hand, a switch in the other, and speaking with his spurres in the horse's flankes, a language he wel understands, but he shall prance, curvet, and dance the canaries[DO] halfe an houre together in compa.s.se of a bush.e.l.l, and yet still, as he thinkes, get some ground, shaking the goodly plume on his head with a comely pride. This will our Bucephalus do in the lists: but when hee comes abroad into the fields, hee will play the countrey gentleman as truly, as before the knight in turnament. If the game be up once, and the hounds in chase, you shall see how he will p.r.i.c.ke up his eares streight, and tickle at the sport as much as his rider shall, and laugh so loud, that if there be many of them, they will even drowne the rurall harmony of the dogges. When he travels, of all innes he loves best the signe of the silver bell, because likely there he fares best, especially if hee come the first, and get the prize. He carries his eares upright, nor seldome ever lets them fall till they be cropt off, and after that, as in despight, will never weare them more. His taile is so essentiall to him, that if he loose it once hee is no longer an horse, but ever stiled a curtall. To conclude, he is a blade of Vulcan's forging, made for Mars of the best metall, and the post of Fame to carrie her tidings through the world, who, if he knew his own strength, would shrewdly put for the monarchie of our wildernesse."

FOOTNOTES:

[DN] Mr. Steevens, in a note to Oth.e.l.lo, explains a jennet to be a Spanish horse; but from the pa.s.sage just given, I confess it appears to me to mean somewhat more. Perhaps a jennet was a horse kept solely for pleasure, whose mane was suffered to grow to a considerable length, and was then ornamented with platting, &c.--A hobby might answer to what we now term a _hogged_ poney.

[DO] _The Canaries_ is the name of an old dance, freqnently alluded to in our early English plays. Shakspeare uses it in _All's well that ends well_--

----"I have seen a medicine, That's able to breathe life into a stone; Quicken a rock, and make you _dance canary_ With spritely fire and motion;"

Sir John Hawkins, in his _History of Musick_, iv. 391. says that it occurs in the opera of _Dioclesian_, set to music by Purcell, and explains it to be "a very sprightly movement of two reprises, or strains, with eight bars in each: the time three quarters in a bar, the first pointed." I take this opportunity of mentioning, that among Dr. Rawlinson's MSS. in the Bodleian, [_Poet._ 108.] is a volume which contains a variety of figures of old dances, written, as I conjecture, between the years 1566 and 1580.

Besides several others are the _pavyan_; _my Lord of Ess.e.x measures_; _tyntermell_; _the old allmayne_; _the longe pavian_; _quanto dyspayne_; _the nyne muses_, &c. As the pavian is mentioned by Shakspeare, in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_, and as the directions for dancing the figure have not been before discovered, I shall make no apology for offering them in the present note.

"THE LONGE PAVIAN,

ij singles, a duble forward; ij singles syde, a duble forward; rep[=i]nce backe once, ij singles syde, a duble forward, one single backe twyse, ij singles, a duble forward, ij singles syde, prerince backe once; ij singles syde, a duble forward, reprince backe twyse."

xvi. _The true Character of an untrue Bishop; with a Recipe at the end how to recover a Bishop if hee were lost. London, printed in the yeare 1641[DP]._

[4to. pp. 10, besides t.i.tle.]

FOOTNOTES:

[DP] I have a faint recollection of a single character in a rare volume, ent.i.tled "_A Boulster Lecture_," &c. Lond. 1640.

xvii. _Character of a Projector, by ---- Hogg. 4to. 1642._