Similarly John Lyly, the dramatist who died in 1606, in his _Gallathea_, gives a dialogue between a mariner and three sons of a miller in which this difference is indicated. The landsmen will never go to sea again, for the bread is hard and the meat salt, and the mariner is pitied for being “pinned in a few boards, and ... within an inch of a thing bottomless.” The mariner, however, rather delights in showing his superiority over them. “I can shift the moon and the sun,” he exclaims, “... the lodestone that always holdeth his nose to the North, the two and thirty points for the wind, the wonders I see—would make you blind. You be but boys. I fear the sea no more than a dish of water.” He then tries to teach them the points of the compass, but they cannot learn them. “O dullard,” he remarks in disgust, “is thy head lighter than the wind, and thy tongue so heavy it will not wag?” Richard Braithwait, who wrote during the seventeenth century, published in 1631, in his _Whimzies_, an essay on the contemporary sailor, whom he admires for his pluck, disregard of danger and for his hardihood. He looks upon him as a desperate, hearty good-natured fellow of dissolute habits when ashore. “The bredth of an inch-boord is betwixt him and drowning, yet hee swears and drinks as deeply as if hee were a fathom from it.... Hee is most constant to his shirt, and other his seldome wash’d linnen.... What a starveling hee is in a frosty morning, with his Sea frocke, which seems as it were shrunke from him, and growne too short, but it will be long enough ere hee get another.” The English writer Sir Thomas Overbury, who was arrested and confined in the Tower, and died in 1613, has left behind a study of the character of the sailor at this time. He wittily describes him as “a pitched piece of reason, caulked and tackled, and only studied to dispute with tempests.... A fair wind is the substance of his creed, and fresh water the burden of his prayers.... In a storm ’tis disputable whether the noise be more his or the elements’, and which will first leave scolding.... His language is a new confusion, and all his thoughts new nations. His body and his ship are both one burden. Nor is it known who stows most wine, or rolls most—only the ship is guided.”