The tobacco chawer is wiping his neck with a wet bandanna, his legs dangling off the bed of his vehicle.

And the king ſaid, Enquire thou whoſe ſonne the ſtripling is.

Boy. Maiſter, will you win your loue with a french braule? / Brag[gart]. How meaneſt thou? brawling in French. / Boy. No my complet Maiſter, but to Iigge off a tune at the tongues ende, canarie to it with your feete, humour it with turning vp your eylids, ſigh a note and ſing a note ſomtime through the throate, if you ſwallowed loue with ſinging loue …

The least miserable among them appear to be those who turn to Dotage, and entirely lose their Memories; these meet with more Pity and Assistance, because they want many bad Qualities which abound in others.