Humors Looking Glasse

In Short

This collection of epigrams and character studies functions as a poetic catalog of social types from 1608 London. The author adopts the role of a keen observer in a metaphorical barbershop, examining the "humors" or defining character flaws of various citizens. From the dandy who spends his last coin on silk to the traveler who mistakes the sights of London for the supernatural, the book documents the gap between how people wish to be perceived and the reality of their often-comical lives. It endures as a vivid, unvarnished portrait of human insecurity.

The Story

The progression of the book is not a linear narrative but a cumulative descent into the chaotic theater of early modern life. It opens with an invitation to the reader to step into the "barbershop" of the author’s imagination, where the vanity of the age is on full display. The author establishes himself as a social critic, promising to reveal the "giddy-headed apes" who masquerade as gentlemen.

The sketches that follow build a mosaic of a society driven by superficiality. We meet the hollow gallant who parades about Duke Humphrey’s tomb in borrowed finery, his sword ready for a fight he never actually intends to win. This theme of performative masculinity continues as the author introduces two "gentlemen" who travel westward by boat to duel, only to abandon their rage the moment a legal authority intervenes. We see the desperate nature of these social climbers; one man, fearing the loss of his reputation, sells his horse to a friend just to secure a loan of ten pounds, only to find the friend considers the horse more creditworthy than the man himself.

As the collection deepens, the focus shifts to the domestic and the deceptive. We encounter the "London-walker"—a man who wears spurs and boots daily to look like a horseman, though he has not mounted a horse in a year. His indignation at being accused of killing a child while riding reveals the crushing weight of his own lies. The tone turns toward the darker side of human interaction, as the author explores the "humors that haunt a wife," depicting a woman who demands her doorway be widened to accommodate her "bomb-fashion" dress, a vanity that drives her husband to wish for a life of solitude.

The book frequently uses the trope of the "gullible traveler" to highlight the ignorance of those who seek prestige without wisdom. An Essex farmer, eager to experience the world, is led through the sights of London by a servant who eventually robs him, leaving the traveler to conclude that London is the devil’s own domain. Even the criminal class is not spared the author’s irony; a "politique" who thinks he can outsmart a cutpurse at the theater finds his own purse emptied because he was too busy admiring his own cleverness.

The arc concludes with a meditation on the three types of cuckolds: the man who thinks he is one when he is not, the man who is one but refuses to believe it, and the man who accepts the folly of his wife with weary resignation. Through these vignettes, the book moves from the public streets to the private bedroom, ultimately arguing that the "humors" that drive these people are inescapable, and that the best one can do is observe them with a cynical, watchful eye.

How It Unfolds

The barbershop introduction The author welcomes the reader into his gallery, likening his verses to the varied faces one encounters in a busy shop. He invites the audience to use their own discretion in judging the colorful, often ridiculous characters that follow.

The parade of fops and braggarts We encounter men who trade their dignity for silk and plumage, walking the halls of power while hiding the truth of their empty purses. These early sketches focus on the vanity of dress and the empty, dangerous posturing of the city's self-appointed elite.

The domestic and social farce The lens shifts to the home and the street, where wives manipulate their husbands and farmers are fleeced by city-dwellers. Here, the folly is more intimate, focusing on the strained relations between those trying to maintain appearances and those who see through the facade.

The traveler's descent The narrative follows a naive visitor who mistakes his guide's malice for genuine service, illustrating how the city consumes the innocent. This serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of seeking status in a place that thrives on exploitation.

The final judgment The book concludes by categorizing human failure through the lens of the "cuckold," offering a philosophical wrap-up on the nature of pride and infidelity. The author leaves the reader with a final, biting reflection on the persistence of human stupidity.

The People

The characters are not individuals in the modern sense but archetypes defined by their ruling "humors." The Gallant is defined by his desperate need for status; he wears feathers and perfume to hide his poverty, yet he is easily undone by a tailor's bill. He stands in the way of his own happiness by choosing the approval of strangers over his own solvency. The Traveller from Essex is the mirror image of the Gallant; he seeks wisdom through travel but possesses only the "Essex calf" intelligence that makes him a target for every con artist in London. He ends the book disillusioned, having learned only that the city is a den of thieves. The Wife in her "bomb-fashion" dress represents the destructive power of vanity within a marriage; she is the force that strips her husband of his peace and his wealth. Finally, the Judge serves as a cold observer of human injustice; he ignores the legitimate grievances of the poor to entertain the trivial squabbles of the wealthy, highlighting the systemic rot beneath the social satire.

In Its Own Voice

A mirrour of the mad conceited shapes, Of this our ages giddy-headed apes.

The author introduces his collection as a reflective surface intended to mock the restless, trend-obsessed youth of his time.

Sattin and silke was pawned long agoe, And now in canvase, no knight can him knowe.

He describes the inevitable decline of the social climber who eventually loses his borrowed finery to the pawnshop.

If I were downe how wouldst thou keepe thy worde? Why with these hilts I’de braine thee at a blow.

In a moment of drunken bravado, two men illustrate the absurdity of their "honor" by debating how they would kill one another if they were not already too intoxicated to stand.

What It's Really About

At its core, the work is a critique of the performative nature of identity. The author is preoccupied with the tension between the "inward mind" and the "outward action," suggesting that in a bustling city like London, people are constantly constructing masks to survive. The book questions whether social status is anything more than a series of well-timed lies and expensive clothes. It reflects a deep-seated anxiety about the fluidity of class and the ease with which one can be deceived, arguing that when everyone is acting, the only truth left is the inevitable exposure of one's own folly.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the biting, observational wit of writers like Ben Jonson or the social critiques of the seventeenth-century stage will find much to admire here. There is a raw, energetic quality to the verse that captures the noise and squalor of London life with startling clarity. However, the experience is not without its hurdles; the language is distinctly early modern, requiring the reader to navigate archaic spelling and references to forgotten local landmarks and customs. The author’s attitudes toward women and the poor are also harsh, reflecting the period's lack of sympathy for social victims. Yet, the persistence of the "giddy-headed ape" remains a resonant theme; watching these characters struggle to maintain their status while their lives unravel is a timeless, if slightly cynical, pleasure. It stays with you not because of its plot, but because of the sharp, unflinching way it exposes the universal human impulse to be more—or at least to appear more—than one actually is. For those interested in the history of the English character, this is an essential, if acerbic, mirror.