Is the elephant with the great trunk, for he eats nothing but what comes
through this way. His profession is not so worthy as to occasion
insolence, and yet no man so much puffed up. His face is as brazen as
his trumpet, and (which is worse) as a fiddler's, from whom he differeth
only in this, that his impudence is dearer. The sea of drink and much
wind make a storm perpetually in his cheeks, and his look is like his
noise, blustering and tempestuous. He was whilom the sound of war, but
now of peace; yet as terrible as ever, for wheresoever he comes they are
sure to pay for it. He is the common attendant of glittering folks,
whether in the court or stage, where he is always the prologue's
prologue.[63] He is somewhat in the nature of a hogshead, shrillest when
he is empty; when his belly is full he is quiet enough. No man proves
life more to be a blast, or himself a bubble, and he is like a
counterfeit bankrupt, thrives best when he is blown up.