Is one that was born and shaped for his cloaths; and, if Adam had not
fallen, had lived to no purpose. He gratulates therefore the first sin,
and fig-leaves that were an occasion of [his] bravery. His first care is
his dress, the next his body, and in the uniting of these two lies his
soul and its faculties. He observes London trulier then the terms, and
his business is the street, the stage, the court, and those places where
a proper man is best shown. If he be qualified in gaming extraordinary,
he is so much the more genteel and compleat, and he learns the best
oaths for the purpose. These are a great part of his discourse, and he
is as curious in their newness as the fashion. His other talk is ladies
and such pretty things, or some jest at a play. His pick-tooth bears a
great part in his discourse, so does his body, the upper parts whereof
are as starched as his linen, and perchance use the same laundress. He
has learned to ruffle his face from his boot, and takes great delight in
his walk to hear his spurs gingle. Though his life pass somewhat
slidingly, yet he seems very careful of the time, for he is still
drawing his watch out of his pocket, and spends part of his hours in
numbering them. He is one never serious but with his tailor, when he is
in conspiracy for the next device. He is furnished with his jests, as
some wanderer with sermons, some three for all congregations, one
especially against the scholar, a man to him much ridiculous, whom he
knows by no other definition but a silly fellow in black. He is a kind
of walking mercer's shop, and shews you one stuff to-day and another
to-morrow; an ornament to the room he comes in as the fair bed and
hangings be; and is merely ratable accordingly, fifty or an hundred
pounds as his suit is. His main ambition is to get a knighthood, and
then an old lady, which if he be happy in, he fills the stage and a
coach so much longer: Otherwise, himself and his clothes grow stale
together, and he is buried commonly ere he dies, in the gaol or
the country.