Hall, printed in folio, and dedicated to James the First. The book, I
believe, originally appeared in 8vo. 1608[DF]. Of this edition I have in
vain endeavoured to procure some information, although I cannot fancy it
to be of any peculiar rarity.
The volume contains a dedication to Edward Lord Denny, and James Lord Hay,
a premonition of the title and use of characters, the proemes, eleven
virtuous characters, and fifteen of a different discription. As Bishop
Hall's collected works have so lately appeared in a new edition, and as
Mr. Pratt[DG] proposes to add a life of the author in a subsequent volume,
I shall forbear giving any specimen from the works or biographical notices
of this amiable prelate, recommending the perusal of his excellent
productions, to all who admire the combination of sound sense with
unaffected devotion.
FOOTNOTES:
[DF] See Brand's _Sale Catalogue_, 8vo. 1807, page 115, No. 3147.
[DG] See the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for October, 1810, LXXXI. 317.
x. _Micrologia. Characters, or Essayes, of Persons, Trades, and Places,
offered to the City and Country. By R. M. Printed at London by T. C. for
Michael Sparke, dwelling at the blue Bible, in Greene Arbor. 1629._
[8vo. containing 56 pages, not numbered.]
The characters in this volume are "A fantasticke taylor; a player; a
shooe-maker; a rope-maker; a smith; a tobacconist; a cunning woman; a
cobler; a tooth-drawer; a tinker; a fidler; a cunning horse-courser;
Bethlem; Ludgate; Bridewell; (and) Newgate."--
"A PLAYER.--(_Sign. B._ iii.)
Is a volume of various conceits or epitome of time, who by his
representation and appearance makes things long past seeme present. He is
much like the compters in arithmeticke, and may stand one while for a
king, another while a begger, many times as a mute or cypher. Sometimes
hee represents that which in his life he scarse practises--to be an honest
man. To the point, hee oft personates a rover, and therein comes neerest
to himselfe. If his action prefigure passion, he raues, rages, and
protests much by his painted heauens, and seemes in the heighth of this
fit ready to pull Ioue out of the garret, where pershance hee lies leaning
on his elbowes, or is imployed to make squips and crackers to grace the
play. His audience are often-times iudicious, but his chiefe admirers are
commonly young wanton chamber-maids, who are so taken with his posture and
gay clothes, they neuer come to be their owne women after. Hee exasperates
men's enormities in publike view, and tels them their faults on the stage,
not as being sorry for them, but rather wishes still hee might finde more
occasions to worke on. He is the generall corrupter of spirits, yet
vntainted, inducing them by gradation to much lasciuious deprauity. He is
a perspicuity of vanity in variety, and suggests youth to perpetrate such
vices, as otherwise they had haply nere heard of. He is (for the most
part) a notable hypocrite, seeming what he is not, and is indeed what hee
seemes not. And if hee lose one of his fellow stroules, in the summer he
turnes king of the gipsies: if not, some great man's protection is a
sufficient warrant for his peregrination, and a meanes to procure him the
town-hall, where hee may long exercise his qualities, with clown-claps of
great admiration, in a tone sutable to the large eares of his illiterate
auditorie. Hee is one seldome takes care for old age, because ill diet and
disorder, together with a consumption, or some worse disease, taken vp in
his full careere, haue onely chalked out his catastrophe but to a colon:
and he scarsely suruiues to his naturall period of dayes."
xi. _Whimzies: Or, A new Cast of Characters. Nova, non nota delectant.
London, Printed by F. K. and are to be sold by Ambrose Rithirdon, at the
signe of the Bull's-head, in Paul's Church-yard. 1631._
[12mo. containing in all, pp. 280.]
The dedication to this volume, which is inscribed to sir _Alexander
Radcliffe_, is signed "_Clitus--Alexandrinus_;" the author's real name I
am unable to discover. It contains twenty-four characters[DH], besides "_A
cater-character, throwne out of a boxe by an experienced gamester_[DI];"
and some lines "vpon the birth-day of his sonne Iohn," of which the
first-will be sufficient to satisfy all curiosity.
"God blesse thee, Iohn,
And make thee such an one
That I may ioy
in calling thee my son.
Thou art my ninth,
and by it I divine
That thou shalt live
to love the Muses nine."--&c. &c.
"A CORRANTO-COINER--(p. 15.)
Is a state newes-monger; and his owne genius is his intelligencer. His
mint goes weekely, and he coines monie by it. Howsoeuer, the more
intelligent merchants doe jeere him, the vulgar doe admire him, holding
his novels oracular: and these are usually sent for tokens or intermissiue
curtsies betwixt city and countrey. Hee holds most constantly one forme or
method of discourse. He retaines some militarie words of art, which hee
shootes at randome; no matter where they hitt, they cannot wound any. He
ever leaves some passages doubtfull, as if they were some more intimate
secrecies of state, clozing his sentence abruptly with--_heereafter you
shall heare more_. Which words, I conceive, he onely useth as baites, to
make the appetite of the reader more eager in his next week's pursuit for
a more satisfying labour. Some generall-erring relations he pickes up, as
crummes or fragments, from a frequented ordinarie: of which shreads he
shapes a cote to fit any credulous foole that will weare it. You shall
never observe him make any reply in places of publike concourse; hee
ingenuously acknowledges himselfe to bee more bounden to the happinesse of
a retentive memory, than eyther ability of tongue, or pregnancy of
conceite. He carryes his table-booke still about with him, but dares not
pull it out publikely. Yet no sooner is the table drawne, than he turnes
notarie; by which meanes hee recovers the charge of his ordinarie. Paules
is his walke in winter; Moorfields[DJ] in sommer. Where the whole
discipline, designes, projects, and exploits of the States, Netherlands,
Poland, Switzer, Crimchan and all, are within the compasse of one
quadrangle walke most judiciously and punctually discovered. But long he
must not walke, lest hee make his newes-presse stand. Thanks to his good
invention, he can collect much out of a very little: no matter though more
experienced judgements disprove him; hee is anonymos, and that wil secure
him. To make his reports more credible or, (which he and his stationer
onely aymes at,) more vendible, in the relation of every occurrent he
renders you the day of the moneth; and to approve himselfe a scholler, he
annexeth these Latine parcells, or parcell-gilt sentences, _veteri stylo,
novo stylo_. Palisados, parapets, counterscarfes, forts, fortresses,
rampiers, bulwarks, are his usual dialect. Hee writes as if he would doe
some mischiefe, yet the charge of his shot is but paper. Hee will
sometimes start in his sleepe, as one affrighted with visions, which I can
impute to no other cause but to the terrible skirmishes which he
discoursed of in the day-time. He has now tyed himselfe apprentice to the
trade of minting, and must weekly performe his taske, or (beside the losse
which accrues to himselfe,) he disappoints a number of no small fooles,
whose discourse, discipline, and discretion, is drilled from his
state-service. These you shall know by their Mondai's morning question, a
little before Exchange time; _Stationer, have you any newes?_ Which they
no sooner purchase than peruse; and, early by next morning, (lest their
countrey friend should be deprived of the benefit of so rich a prize,)
they freely vent the substance of it, with some illustrations, if their
understanding can furnish them that way. He would make you beleeve that
hee were knowne to some forraine intelligence, but I hold him the wisest
man that hath the least faith to beleeve him. For his relations he stands
resolute, whether they become approved, or evinced for untruths; which if
they bee, hee has contracted with his face never to blush for the matter.
Hee holds especiall concurrence with two philosophicall sects, though hee
bee ignorant of the tenets of either: in the collection of his
observations, he is _peripateticall_, for hee walkes circularly; in the
digestion of his relations he is _Stoicall_, and sits regularly. Hee has
an alphabeticall table of all the chiefe commanders, generals, leaders,
provinciall townes, rivers, ports, creekes, with other fitting materials
to furnish his imaginary building. Whisperings, muttrings, and bare
suppositions, are sufficient grounds for the authoritie of his relations.
It is strange to see with what greedinesse this ayrie Chameleon, being all
lungs and winde, will swallow a receite of newes, as if it were physicall:
yea, with what frontlesse insinuation he will scrue himselfe into the
acquaintance of some knowing _Intelligencers_, who, trying the cask by his
hollow sound, do familiarly gull him. I am of opinion, were all his
voluminous centuries of fabulous relations compiled, they would vye in
number with the Iliads of many forerunning ages. You shall many times
finde in his Gazettas, pasquils, and corrantos miserable distractions;
here a city taken by force long before it bee besieged; there a countrey
laid waste before ever the enemie entered. He many times tortures his
readers with impertinencies, yet are these the tolerablest passages
throughout all his discourse. He is the very landskip of our age. He is
all ayre; his eare alwayes open to all reports, which, how incredible
soever, must passe for currant, and find vent, purposely to get him
currant money, and delude the vulgar. Yet our best comfort is, his
chymeras live not long; a weeke is the longest in the citie, and after
their arrival, little longer in the countrey; which past, they melt like
_Butter_, or match a pipe, and so _Burne_[DK]. But indeede, most commonly
it is the height of their ambition to aspire to the imployment of stopping
mustard-pots, or wrapping up pepper, pouder, staves-aker, &c. which done,
they expire. Now for his habit, Wapping and Long-lane will give him his
character. Hee honours nothing with a more indeered observance, nor hugges
ought with more intimacie than antiquitie, which he expresseth even in his
cloathes. I have knowne some love fish best that smelled of the panyer;
and the like humour reignes in him, for hee loves that apparele best that
has a taste of the broker. Some have held him for a scholler, but trust
mee such are in a palpable errour, for hee never yet understood so much
Latine as to construe _Gallo-Belgicus_. For his librarie (his owne
continuations excepted,) it consists of very few or no bookes. He holds
himselfe highly engaged to his invention if it can purchase him victuals;
for authors hee never converseth with them, unlesse they walke in Paules.
For his discourse it is ordinarie, yet hee will make you a terrible
repetition of desperate commanders, unheard of exployts; intermixing
withall his owne personall service. But this is not in all companies, for
his experience hath sufficiently informed him in this principle--that as
nothing workes more on the simple than things strange and incredibly rare;
so nothing discovers his weaknesse more among the knowing and judicious
than to insist, by way of discourse, on reports above conceite. Amongst
these, therefore, hee is as mute as a fish. But now imagine his lampe (if
he be worth one,) to be neerely burnt out; his inventing genius wearied
and surfoote with raunging over so many unknowne regions; and himselfe,
wasted with the fruitlesse expence of much paper, resigning his place of
weekly collections to another, whom, in hope of some little share, hee has
to his stationer recommended, while he lives either poorely respected, or
dyes miserably suspended. The rest I end with his owne cloze:--_Next weeke
you shall heare more_."
FOOTNOTES:
[DH] An almanack-maker; a ballad-monger; a corranto-coiner; a decoy; an
exchange man; a forrester; a gamester; an hospitall-man; a iayler; a
keeper; a launderer; a metall man; a neuter; an ostler; a post-master: a
quest-man; a ruffian; a sailor; a trauller; an vnder sheriffe; a
wine-soaker; a Xantippean; a yealous neighbour; a zealous brother.
[DI] This _cater-character_, which possesses a separate title page,
contains delineations of an apparator; a painter; a pedler; and a piper.
[DJ] _Moorfields_ were a general promenade for the citizens of London,
during the summer months. The ground was left to the city by Mary and
Catherine, daughters of sir William Fines, a Knight of Rhodes, in the
reign of Edward the Confessor. Richard Johnson, a poetaster of the
sixteenth century, published in 1607, _The Pleasant Walkes of
Moore-fields. Being the Guift of two Sisters, now beautified, to the
continuing fame of this worthy Citty_. 4to. black-letter, of which Mr.
Gough, (_Brit. Topog._) who was ignorant of the above, notices an
impression in 1617.
[DK] This is certainly intended as a pun upon the names of two
news-venders or _corranto-coiners_ of the day. Nathaniel _Butter_, the
publisher of "_The certain Newes of this present Week_," lived at the
_Pyde-Bull_, St. Austin's-gate, and was the proprietor of several of the
_intelligencers_, from 1622 to about 1640. Nicholas _Bourne_ was a joint
partner with _Butter_ in _The Sweedish Intelligencer_, 4to. _Lond._ 1632.
xii. _Picturae loquentes: or Pictures drawne forth in Characters. With a
Poeme of a Maid. By Wye Saltonstall. Ne sutor ultra crepidam. London:
Printed by T. Coles, &c. 1631. 12mo._
I have copied the above title from an article in the _Censura
Literaria_[DL], communicated by Mr. Park, of whose copious information,
and constant accuracy on every subject connected with English literature,
the public have many specimens before them.
Saltonstall's[DM] _Characters_, &c. reached a second edition in 1635. A
copy of this rare volume is in the possession of Mr. Douce, who, with his
accustomed liberality, permitted my able and excellent friend, Mr. John
James Park, to draw up the following account of it for the present volume.
To "The Epistle dedicatory" of this impression, the initials (or such
like) of dedicatee's name only are given, for, says the dedicator, "I know
no fame can redound unto you by these meane essayes, which were written,
_Ocium magis foventes, quam studentes gloriae_, as sheapheards play upon
their oaten pipes, to recreate themselves, not to get credit."
"To the Reader.--Since the title is the first leafe that cometh under
censure, some, perhaps, will dislike the name of pictures, and say, I have
no _colour_ for it, which I confesse, for these pictures are not drawne in
colours, but in characters, representing to the eye of the minde divers
severall professions, which, if they appeare more obscure than I coulde
wish, yet I would have you know that it is not the nature of a character,
to be as smooth as a bull-rush, but to have some fast and loose knots,
which the ingenious reader may easily untie. The first picture is the
description of a maide, which young men may read, and from thence learn to
know, that vertue is the truest beauty. The next follow in their order,
being set together in this _little_ book, that in winter you may reade
them _ad ignem_, by the fire-side, and in summer _ad umbram_, under some
shadie tree, and therewith passe away the tedious howres. So hoping of thy
favourable censure, knowing that the least judicious are most ready to
judge, I expose them to thy view, with Apelles motto, _Ne sutor, ultra
crepidam_. Lastly, whether you like them, or leave them, yet the author
bids you welcome.
"Thine as mine,
W.S."
_The Original Characters are_,
1. The world.
2. An old man.
3. A woman.
4. A widdow.
5. A true lover.
6. A countrey bride.
7. A plowman.
8. A melancholy man.
9. A young heire.
10. A scholler in the university.
11. A lawyer's clarke.
12. A townsman in Oxford.
13. An usurer.
14. A wandering rogue.
15. A waterman.
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 entitled, _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 amusement 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 buttocke, 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 compasse of a bushell, 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 pricke 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 Othello, explains a jennet to be a Spanish
horse; but from the passage 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 Essex 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,