1.
_Holding in Capite._
_First Gent._ ’Tis well known I am a Gentleman. My father was a man of
£500 a year, and he held something _in capite_ too.
_Second Gent._ So does my Lord something--
_Foolish Lord._ Nay, by my troth, what I hold _in capite_ is worth
little or nothing.
2.
_Fool’s Experience._
_Page._ He that’s first a scholar, and next in love, the year after is
either an arrant fool or a madman.
_Master._ How came your knavery by such experience?
_Page._ As fools do by news: somebody told me so, and I believe it.
3.
_Modern Sybarite._
----softly, ye villains!--the rogues of chairmen have trundled me over
some damn’d nutshell or other, that gave me such a jerk as has half
murder’d me.
4.
_Spare diet of Spaniards._
_Spaniard._ The air being thin and rarified generally provides us good
stomachs.
_Englishman._ Aye, and the earth little or nothing to satisfy ’em
with; I think a cabbage is a jewel among you.
_Span._ Why, truly a good cabbage is respected. But our people are
often very luxurious, they abound very often.
_Eng._ O no such matter, faith, Spaniard! ’death, if they get but a
piece of beef, they shall hang all the bones out, and write underneath
_Here hath been beef eaten_, as if ’twere a miracle. And if they get
but a lean hen, the feathers shall be spread before the door with
greater pride than we our carpets at some princely solemnity.
5.
_Foolish Form._
_Servant_ (_to my Lord Stately’s Gentleman Usher._) Sir, here’s your
Lord’s footman come to tell you, your Lord’s hat is blown out of his
hand.
_Lord W._ Why did not the footman take it up?
_Usher._ He durst not, my Lord; ’tis above him.
_Lord W._ Where? a’top of the chimney?
_Usher._ Above his office, my Lord.
_Lord W._ How does this fool, for want of solid greatness, swell with
empty ceremony, and fortify himself with outworks! That a man must dig
thro’ rubbish to come at an ass.
_English Friar._
6.
_Cast Books._
_Waiting maid._ I have a new Bible too; and when my Lady left her
Practice of Piety, she gave it me.
_Newcastle._
7.
_Good at guessing_
Nay, good Mr. Constable, you are e’en the luckiest at being wise that
ever I knew.
_Newcastle._
8.
_Essays at Essays._