hungry. He likes our religion best because 'tis best cheap, yet would
fain allow of purgatory, cause 'twas of his trade, and brought in so
much money. His heart goes with the same snaphance his purse doth: 'tis
seldom open to any man. Friendship he accounts but a word without any
signification; nay, he loves all the world so little, that an it were
possible he would make himself his own executor. For certain, he is made
administrator to his own good name while he is in perfect memory, for
that dies long before him; but he is so far from being at the charge of
a funeral for it, that he lets it stink above-ground. In conclusion, for
neighbourhood you were better dwell by a contentious lawyer. And for his
death, 'tis either surfeit, the pox, or despair; for seldom such as he
die of God's making, as honest men should do.



A WATERMAN

Is one that hath learnt to speak well of himself, for always he names
himself "the first man." If he had betaken himself to some richer trade,
he could not have choosed but done well; for in this, though a mean one,
he is still plying it, and putting himself forward. He is evermore
telling strange news, most commonly lies. If he be a sculler, ask him if
he be married: he'll equivocate, and swear he's a single man. Little
trust is to be given to him, for he thinks that day he does best when he
fetches most men over. His daily labour teaches him the art of
dissembling, for, like a fellow that rides to the pillory, he goes not
that way he looks. He keeps such a bawling at Westminster, that, if the
lawyers were not acquainted with it, an order would be taken with him.
When he is upon the water he is fair company; when he comes ashore he
mutinies, and, contrary to all other trades, is most surly to gentlemen