Mompesson was the dashing eagle; Mitchell the sorry kite.

Sir Francis was weakly, emaciated in frame; much given to sensual indulgence; and his body conformed to his timorous organization.
His shrunken shanks scarcely sufficed to support him; his back was bent; his eyes blear; his head bald; and his chin, which was continually wagging, clothed with a scanty yellow beard, shaped like a stiletto, while his sandy moustachios were curled upward.

He was dressed in the extremity of the fashion, and affected the air of a young court gallant.
His doublet, hose, and mantle were ever of the gayest and most fanciful hues, and of the richest stuffs; he wore a diamond brooch in his beaver, and sashes, tied like garters, round his thin legs, which were utterly destitute of calf.

Preposterously large roses covered his shoes; his ruff was a "treble-quadruple-dedalion;" his gloves richly embroidered; a large crimson satin purse hung from his girdle; and he was scented with powders and pulvilios.

This withered coxcomb affected the mincing gait of a young man; and though rather an object of derision than admiration with the fair sex, persuaded himself they were all captivated by him.
The vast sums he so unjustly acquired did not long remain in his possession, but were dispersed in ministering to his follies and depravity.