[_Is a holiday clown, and differs only in the stuff of his clothes, not
the stuff of himself_,[35]] for he bare the king's sword before he had
arms to wield it; yet being once laid o'er the shoulder with a
knighthood, he finds the herald his friend. His father was a man of good
stock, though but a tanner or usurer; he purchased the land, and his son
the title. He has doffed off the name of a [_country fellow_,[36]] but
the look not so easy, and his face still bears a relish of churn-milk.
He is guarded with more gold lace than all the gentlemen of the country,
yet his body makes his clothes still out of fashion. His house-keeping
is seen much in the distinct families of dogs, and serving-men attendant
on their kennels, and the deepness of their throats is the depth of his
discourse. A hawk he esteems the true burden of nobility,[37] and is
exceeding ambitious to seem delighted in the sport, and have his fist
gloved with his jesses.[38] A justice of peace he is to domineer in his
parish, and do his neighbour wrong with more right.[39] He will be drunk
with his hunters for company, and stain, his gentility with droppings of
ale. He is fearful of being sheriff of the shire by instinct, and dreads
the assize-week as much as the prisoner. In sum, he's but a clod of his
own earth, or his land is the dunghill and he the cock that crows over
it: and commonly his race is quickly run, and his children's children,
though they scape hanging, return to the place from whence they came.