<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<FictionBook xmlns="http://www.gribuser.ru/xml/fictionbook/2.0" xmlns:l="http://www.w3.org/1999/xlink"><description><title-info><author><first-name>John Evelyn</first-name></author><book-title>Mundus Foppensis: The Fop Display'd</book-title><lang>uk</lang></title-info></description><body><section><p>Produced by Colin Bell, Joseph Cooper, Carol Ann Brown,&#13;
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at&#13;
https://www.pgdp.net</p><p>Mundus Foppensis:&#13;
             OR, THE&#13;
          Fop Display'd.&#13;
              BEING&#13;
      The Ladies VINDICATION,</p><p>In Answer to a late Pamphlet, Entituled,&#13;
      Mundus Muliebris: Or, The Ladies&#13;
       Dressing-Room Unlocked, _&amp;c._</p><p>In Burlesque.</p><p>Together with a short SUPPLEMENT&#13;
  to the _Fop-Dictionary_: Compos'd for the&#13;
  use of the Town _Beaus_.</p><p>_Prisca juvent alios; Ego me nunc denique natum,&#13;
     Gratulor haec aetas moribus apta meis.&#13;
  Non quia nunc terra lentum subducitur aurum&#13;
     Lectaque diverso littore Concha venit.&#13;
  Sed quia cultus adest, nec nostros mansit in Annos,&#13;
     Rusticitas Priscis illa superstes avis._</p><p>_Ovid_ de Arte Amandi. _Lib. 3._</p><p>_London,_ Printed for John Harris at the Harrow&#13;
              in the _Poultry_, 1691.</p><p>ADVERTISEMENT</p><p>There is newly published _The Present State of Europe_; or, _The&#13;
Historical and Political Mercury_: Giving an Account of all the publick&#13;
and private Occurrences that are most considerable in every Court, for&#13;
the Months of _August_ and _September_, 1690. With curious _Reflections_&#13;
upon every State. To be continued Monthly from the Original, published&#13;
at the _Hague_ by the Authority of the States of _Holland_ and&#13;
_West-Friesland_. Sold by John Harris at the Harrow in the _Poultrey_.</p><p>There is newly published _A plain Relation of the late Action at Sea_,&#13;
between the _English_ and _Dutch_, and the _French_ Fleets, from _June_&#13;
22th. to _July_ 5th. last: With _Reflections_ thereupon, and upon the&#13;
Present State of the Nation, _&amp;c._</p><p>Written by the Author of the _Reflections upon the last Years&#13;
Occurrences_, &amp;c. _London_, Printed for John Harris at the Harrow in the&#13;
_Poultrey_, Price 1 _s._</p><p>THE&#13;
  PREFACE.</p><p>Ladies,</p><p>_In the Tacker together of Mundus Muliebris, As it was a very great&#13;
Piece of ill Manners, to unlock your Dressing-Rooms without your Leave,&#13;
so was it no less indecent in him to expose your Wardrobes to the World,&#13;
especially in such a Rhapsody of Rhime Doggeril as looks much more like&#13;
an Inventory than a Poem; however, he has only pilfer'd away the Names&#13;
of your Varieties without doing ye any other Mischief; for there is&#13;
nothing to be found in all his Index, nor his Dictionary neither, but&#13;
what becomes a Person of Quality to give, and a Person of Quality to&#13;
receive; and indeed, considering how frail the mortal Estates of mortal&#13;
Gentlemen are, it argues but a common Prudence in Ladies to take&#13;
Advantage of the Kindness of their Admirers_; to make Hay while the Sun&#13;
shines; _well knowing how often they are inveigl'd out of their&#13;
Jointures upon all Occasions: Besides, it is a_ _general Desire in Men,&#13;
that their Ladies should keep Home, and therefore it is but reasonable&#13;
they should make their Homes as delightful as it is possible; and&#13;
therefore this Bubble of an Inventory is not to be thought the Effect of&#13;
general Repentance, among your Servants and Adorers, but the capricious&#13;
Malice of some Person envious of the little Remunerations of your&#13;
Kindnesses for being disbandded from your Conversation; little indeed,&#13;
considering the Rewards due to your Merits, otherwise it would be the&#13;
greatest Injustice upon Earth for the Men to think of reforming the&#13;
Women before they reform themselves, who are ten times worse in all&#13;
respects, as you will have sufficient to retort upon them when you come&#13;
by and by to the Matter._</p><p>_But to shew that it is no new thing for Ladies to go gay and gaudy, we&#13;
find in Ovid, that the Women made use of great Variety of Colours for&#13;
the Silks of which they made their Garments, of which the chiefest in&#13;
request among them were Azure, Sea-green, Saffron colour, Violet, Ash&#13;
colour, Rose colour, Chesnut, Almond Colour, with several others, as&#13;
their Fancy thought fit to make choice; nor were they deny'd the Purple&#13;
in Grain, overlaid with Pearl, or embroider'd with Gold: Nor_ _was it a&#13;
strange thing for the Roman Women to die their Hair Yellow, as an&#13;
augmentation to their Beauty; nor did the severity of the times at all&#13;
oppose it, but rather allow'd it. Now, says Ovid, The Manner of dressing&#13;
is not of one sort, and therefore let every Lady choose what best&#13;
becomes her; first consulting her Looking-glass. And soon after, he&#13;
confesses that there were not more Leaves upon a large Oak, not so many&#13;
Bees in Hybla, nor so many wild Beasts ranging the Alps as he could&#13;
number differences of dressing Ladies. He tells ye how Laodamia drest to&#13;
set off a long Face. How Diana drest when she went a Hunting: And how&#13;
Iole was carelessly drest when she took Alcides Captive in the Dangles&#13;
of her Tresses: So that it is no such new thing for the Women of this&#13;
Age to desire rich and splendid Ornaments. And why their Grandmothers,&#13;
and Great Grandmothers confin'd themselves to their Nuptial Kirtles,&#13;
their Gowns and Petticoats that lasted so many Anniversaries; their&#13;
Virginals for Musick, and their Spanish Pavans, and Sellingers Rounds&#13;
for Recreation, after their long poring upon Tent-stitch, 'tis not a&#13;
farthing Matter for our Ladies to enquire: 'Twas their Misfortune they&#13;
knew no better; but because they_ _knew no better, 'tis no Argument that&#13;
our Ladies should be ty'd to their obsolete Examples: For the&#13;
Alterations of Times and Customs alter the Humors and Fashions of an&#13;
Age, and change the whole Frame of Conversation. Juno is by the Poets&#13;
trick'd up in Vestments embroidered with all the Colours of the&#13;
Peacocks; and no question the Poets spoke with Relation to the Gallantry&#13;
of the Women of those times. And who so gaudy as Madam Iris in the Skie,&#13;
and therefore said to be chief Maid of Honour to Jupiter's Wife. I could&#13;
give ye an Account of the Habits of Venus, and the Graces, which the&#13;
Poets adapting to the Modes of those Times, plainly demonstrates, that&#13;
the Ladies were no less curious in those days than now._</p><p>_So then, Ladies, for your comfort be it spoken, here's only a Great Cry&#13;
and little Wool; while the Unlocker of your Dressing-Rooms brings us a&#13;
long Bedroll of hard Names to prove that you make use of a great deal of&#13;
Variety to set forth and grace your Beauty, and render your Charms more&#13;
unresistable, and that you love to have your Closets splendidly and&#13;
richly furnish'd: Heavens be prais'd, he lays nothing Criminal to your&#13;
Charge; but only puts ye in mind of a Chapter in Isaiah, of which_ _you&#13;
are not bound to take much notice, in regard his mistaking the 6. for&#13;
the 3: may secure ye there is little heed to be given to his Divinity._</p><p>_But on the other side it makes me mad to hear what the Devil of a Roman&#13;
Satyr Juvenal speaks of his own Sex; for tho' he makes Women bad enough,&#13;
he makes it an easier thing to meet with Prodigies and Monsters, than&#13;
Men of Sense and Vertue._</p><p>Should I behold in _Rome_, that Man, _says he_,&#13;
  That were of spotless Fame, and Life unblam'd;&#13;
  More than a Wonder it would be to me,&#13;
  And I that Monster would compare to damn'd:&#13;
  Two-headed Boy, with double Members born,&#13;
  Or Fish, by Plow turn'd up, where lately Corn&#13;
  In fertile Acres grew; or Fole by Mule&#13;
  Brought forth, as Heaven would Nature over-rule:&#13;
  No less amaz'd, than if a stoney Showre&#13;
  Should from the Skie upon the Pavement pour;&#13;
  Or that some Swarm of Bees, ascending higher&#13;
  Than usually, should cluster on the Temple Spire;&#13;
  Or that some rapid and impetuous Stream,&#13;
  Should roll into the Sea, all Bloud, or Cream.</p><p>_Heavens! how many Wonders do's Juvenal make at the sight of an Honest&#13;
Man in his time; and yet when he has spoken as bad as he could of_ _the&#13;
Women, we find no such severe Expressions of his upon the Female Sex.&#13;
Now Ladies if good Men are so scarce, what need you care what Fools and&#13;
bad Men say. 'Tis true it must be acknowledg'd a hard Censure upon Men;&#13;
but it was a Man that said it; and therefore it makes the better for the&#13;
Feminine Gender. Well, Ladies, you may be pleas'd to make what use of it&#13;
you think fit, as being that which will certainly defend ye against all&#13;
the Picklocks of your Dressing-Rooms for the future; besides the Liberty&#13;
which Ovid, an Authentick Author, gives ye, to make use of what Dresses,&#13;
what Ornaments, what Embellishments you please, according to the Mode&#13;
and Practice of those times, under one of the best Rulers of the Roman&#13;
Empire, and far more antient than when your Grandmothers and Great&#13;
Grandmothers spun Flax, and bespittl'd their Fingers._</p><p>THE&#13;
         Fop Display'd;</p><p>OR,</p><p>The Ladies VINDICATION:</p><p>In ANSWER to</p><p>The Ladies Dressing-Room Unlock'd, _&amp;c._</p><p>Fain wou'd I, Ladies, briefly know&#13;
  How you have injur'd Bully _Beau_;&#13;
  That he thus falls, with so much noise,&#13;
  Upon your Trinkets, and your Toys?&#13;
  Something was in't; for I protest t' ye,&#13;
  He has most wonderfully drest ye:&#13;
  Nor has his Wrath spar'd ye an inch,&#13;
  To set ye out in Pedlars French;&#13;
  And all his Readers to possess,&#13;
  That Women conjure when they dress:&#13;
  Malicious _Beau_-Design, to make&#13;
  The Ladies Dressing-Room to speak&#13;
  Hard Words, unknown to all their Gransires;&#13;
  The Language like of Necromancers.&#13;
  Heavens! must Men still be at th' Mercies&#13;
  Of new _Medeas_, and new _Circes_;&#13;
  Not working by the fatal Powers&#13;
  Of old inchanting Herbs and Flowers;&#13;
  But by the Magick of their Garments,&#13;
  Conspiring to renew our Torments?&#13;
  I'll not believe the venomous Satyr,&#13;
  It cannot be in Ladies Nature,&#13;
  So amiable, sweet, and active,&#13;
  To Study Magical Attractive;&#13;
  As if they Wanted Help of _Endor_,&#13;
  Their Graces more Divine to render.&#13;
  Rather we think this _Jargonry_&#13;
  Beyond the Skill of Doctor Dee:&#13;
  Hell's Preacher, _Phlegyas,_ from below,&#13;
  Call'd up, and hous'd in carnal _Beau_;&#13;
  With wicked Hells _Enthusiasm_,&#13;
  Between each Sex to make a _Chasm_;&#13;
  For _Virgil_, never tax'd of Nonsense;&#13;
  Nor yet provok'd, to injure Lady&#13;
  Brings in the same infernal Rabbi,&#13;
  Among the Damn'd, disturb'd in Conscience;&#13;
  And stirr'd with like Satyrick Rage,&#13;
  Against the Females of that Age.&#13;
    Ingratefull Rhimer! thus to vex&#13;
  The more refin'd and lovely Sex,&#13;
  By acting like officious Novice,&#13;
  Informer in the Devil's _Crown-Office_,&#13;
  If we mayn't rather take him for&#13;
  Some busie, bold Apparator,&#13;
  In Satan's Commons Court of Arches,&#13;
  By his more Feminine Researches:&#13;
  Tho' what if many a tainted Whore&#13;
  Tormented him before his hour,&#13;
  'Twas mean Revenge, howe'er, to fall&#13;
  On the whole Sex in general;&#13;
  'Cause 'twas his ill luck still to light&#13;
  On Ware unsound, for want of Wit.&#13;
    What if the Ladies will be brave,&#13;
  Why may not they a Language have&#13;
  To wrap their Trinkets up in Mystery?&#13;
  Since Men are much more blam'd in History,&#13;
  For tying up their Slipper peaks&#13;
  With Silver Chains, that reach'd their Necks.&#13;
  Was't not, d'ye think, a pleasant sight,&#13;
  To see the smiling Surgeon slit&#13;
  The swelling Figs, in Bum behind,&#13;
  Caught by misusing of his Kind?&#13;
  But Women, only for being quaint,&#13;
  To signifie the Things they want&#13;
  By proper Names, must be reproach'd;&#13;
  For wanton, foolish, and debauch'd;&#13;
  Yet Learning is no Crime to Ladies,&#13;
  And Terms of Art are still where Trade is.&#13;
  Printers speak Gibb'rish at their Cafes;&#13;
  And Weavers talk in unknown Phrases;&#13;
  And Blacksmith's 'Prentice takes his Lessons&#13;
  From Arabick (to us) Expressions:&#13;
  Why then mayn't Ladies, in their Stations,&#13;
  Use novel Names for novel Fashions?&#13;
  And is not _Colbertine_, God save us,&#13;
  Much nearer far than _Wevus mavus_;&#13;
  A sort of Cant, with which the young&#13;
  Corrupted once their Mother Tongue:&#13;
  Is such a Bumpkin Cant as that&#13;
  Fit for an Age where only what&#13;
  Is brisk and airy, new refin'd,&#13;
  Exalts the Wit, and clears the mind?&#13;
  No ladies, no; go on your way;&#13;
  Gay Cloaths require gay Words, we say.&#13;
    When Art has trimm'd up Head-Attire,&#13;
  Fit for a Nation to admire;&#13;
  And Head and Ornament are well met,&#13;
  Like Amazonian Plume and Helmet;&#13;
  To call that by a vulgar Name,&#13;
  Would be too mean, and th' Artist shame;&#13;
  Call it a _Septizonimum_, or _Tiara_;&#13;
  Or what you please, that's new and rare-a.&#13;
  May not the Head, the Seat of Sense,&#13;
  Name it's own Dress, without Offence?&#13;
  The Roman Ladies, you are told,&#13;
  Wore such a Head-Attire of old;&#13;
  And what if _Juvenal_ were such a Satyr,&#13;
  The Roman Ladies to bespatter;&#13;
  Tell _Juvenal_, he was a Fool,&#13;
  And must not think to _England_ rule:&#13;
  Why should her Jewels move my Spleen;&#13;
  Let her out-dazle _Egypt_'s Queen:&#13;
  It shows that Gold the Pocket lines,&#13;
  Where such illustrious Glory shines;&#13;
  And there's a sort of Pride becomes&#13;
  The Pomp of Dress, as well as Rooms.&#13;
  I would not for the world be thought&#13;
  To pick a hole in Ladies Coat;&#13;
  Because they make it their Delight,&#13;
  To keep their Bodies trim and tite.&#13;
  What though the Names be new, and such&#13;
  As borrow from the French and Dutch?&#13;
  Or strain'd from the Italian Idiom,&#13;
  Rather from hence I take the Freedom,&#13;
  To praise their Care, thus to enrich&#13;
  And fructifie our barren Speech,&#13;
  We owe to their Vocabulary,&#13;
  That makes our Language full and airy,&#13;
  Enlarging _Meige_'s Dictionary.&#13;
  Where things want Names, Names must be had:&#13;
  Shall Lady cry to Chamber-maid,&#13;
  Bring me my Thing there, for my head;&#13;
  My Thing there, quilted white and red;&#13;
  My Thing there for my Wrists and Neck;&#13;
  'Tis ten to One the Maids mistake;&#13;
  Then Lady cries, The Devil take&#13;
  Such cursed Sots; my tother Thing;&#13;
  Then 'stead of Shoes, the Cuffs they bring.&#13;
  'Slife--Lady crys, if I rise up,&#13;
  I'll send thee to the Devil to sup;&#13;
  And thus, like _Babel_, in conclusion,&#13;
  The Lady's Closet's all Confusion;&#13;
  When as if Ladies name the Things,&#13;
  The Maid, whate'er she bid her, brings;&#13;
  Neither is Lady chaf'd with Anger,&#13;
  Nor Bones of Maiden put in danger.&#13;
    Sure then 'twas some ill-natur'd _Beau_,&#13;
  To persecute the Ladies so;&#13;
  For peopling, of their own accords,&#13;
  _Phillip's English World of Words_:&#13;
  A _Beau_ more cruel than the _Goths_,&#13;
  Thus to deny the Women Cloaths:&#13;
  As if to theirs the rich Additions&#13;
  Were Heathen Rites, and Superstitions;&#13;
  Or else, as if from _Picts_ descended,&#13;
  He were with Women's Cloaths offended;&#13;
  And spite of cold, or heat of air,&#13;
  He lov'd to see Dame Nature bare.&#13;
  Their Shoes and Stays, he says, are tawdry,&#13;
  Not fit to wear 'cause of th' Embroidry.&#13;
  For Petticoats he'd have e'm bare-breech'd,&#13;
  From _India_ 'cause the Stuffs are far-fetch'd.&#13;
  Their Points and Lace he damns to Hell;&#13;
  Corruptions of the Common-Weal.&#13;
  The vain Exceptions of Wiseacres,&#13;
  Fit to goe herd among the Quakers;&#13;
  And talk to _Maudlin_, in close Hood,&#13;
  Things that themselves ne'er understood.&#13;
  Now let us then the _Beau_ survey,&#13;
  Has he no Baubles to display:&#13;
  There's first the _Dango_, and the _Snake_,&#13;
  Those _Dildoes_ in the Nape of Neck;&#13;
  That dangle down behind, to shew&#13;
  Dimensions of the _Snake_ below:&#13;
  'Tis thick, and long; but pizzl'd at th' end,&#13;
  And would be thought the Woman's Friend:&#13;
  Yet they who many times have try'd,&#13;
  By _Dango_ swear the _Snake_ bely'd.&#13;
  Then th' insignificant _Knee-Rowl_,&#13;
  A mere _Whim-wham_, upon my Soul;&#13;
  For that 'twas never made, I fear,&#13;
  To save the Master's Knees at Prayer:&#13;
  Which being worn o'th' largest size,&#13;
  That Man _Rolls_ full, the Bully cries.&#13;
  A Term of Art for Knees Concinnity,&#13;
  Beyond the Sense of School-Divinity.&#13;
    What _Beau_ himself would so unman,&#13;
  To ride in scandalous Sedan?&#13;
  A Carriage only fit for Midwives,&#13;
  That of their Burthens go to rid Wives;&#13;
  Unless to hide, from Revelation,&#13;
  Th' Adulterer's haste to Assignation.&#13;
    What Dunces are our Tonsors grown,&#13;
  Where's their Gold Filings in an Amber Box,&#13;
  To strew upon their Masters Locks,&#13;
  And make 'em glitter in the Sun?&#13;
  Sure English _Beaus_ may out-vie _Venus_,&#13;
  As well as _Commodus_, or _Gallienus_.&#13;
  'Twas Goldilocks, my lovely Boy,&#13;
  Made _Agamemnon_ ruine _Troy_.&#13;
    I could produce ye Emperours&#13;
  That sate in Womens Dress whole hours,&#13;
  Expos'd upon the publick Stage&#13;
  Their Catamites, Wives by Marr'age.&#13;
    Your old Trunk-hose are laid aside,&#13;
  For what-d'-ye-call-em's Tail to hide;&#13;
  So strait and close upon the Skin,&#13;
  As onely made for Lady's Eyne;&#13;
  To see the shape of Thighs and Groin:&#13;
  Hard case _Priapus_ should be so restrain'd,&#13;
  That had whole Orchards at command.&#13;
  Yet these are Toys, in Men, more wise,&#13;
  To Womens innocent Vanities.&#13;
  While soft Sir _Courtly Nice_ looks great,&#13;
  With the unmortgag'd Rents of his Estate:&#13;
  What is the Learning he adores,&#13;
  But the Discourse of Pimps and Whores?&#13;
  She who can tye, with quaintest Art,&#13;
  The spruce Cravat-string, wins his Heart;&#13;
  Where that same Toy does not exactly sit,&#13;
  He's not for common Conversation fit.&#13;
  How is the Barber held Divine,&#13;
  That can a Perriwig _Carine_!&#13;
  Or else _Correct_ it; which you please;&#13;
  For these are _Terms_ too, now-a-days,&#13;
  Of modern Gallants to entice&#13;
  The Barber to advance his Price:&#13;
  For if a Barber be not dear,&#13;
  He must not cover Coxcomb's Ear.&#13;
    Bless us! what's there? 'tis something walks,&#13;
  A piece of Painting, and yet speaks:&#13;
  Hard Case to blame the Ladies Washes,&#13;
  When Men are come to mend their Faces.&#13;
  Yet some there are such Women grown,&#13;
  They cann't be by their Faces known:&#13;
  Some wou'd be like the fair _Adonis_;&#13;
  Some would be _Hyacinthus_ Cronies;&#13;
  And then they study wanton use&#13;
  Of Spanish Red, and white Ceruse;&#13;
  The only Painters to the Life,&#13;
  That seem with Natures self at strife;&#13;
  As if she only the dead Colours laid,&#13;
  But they the Picture perfect made.&#13;
  What _Zeuxis_ dare provoke these Elves,&#13;
  That to out-doe him paint themselves?&#13;
  For tho' the Birds his painted Grapes did crave,&#13;
  These paint and all Mankind deceive.&#13;
  This sure must spend a World of Morning,&#13;
  More than the Ladies quick adorning;&#13;
  They have found out a shorter way,&#13;
  Not as before, to wast the day;&#13;
  They only comb, wash hands and face,&#13;
  And streightway, with a comely Grace,&#13;
  On the admired _Helmet_ goes,&#13;
  As ready rigg'd as their lac'd Shoes.&#13;
  Far much more time Men trifling wast,&#13;
  E'er their soft Bodies can be drest;&#13;
  The Looking-Glass hangs just before,&#13;
  And each o'th' Legs requires an hour:&#13;
  Now thereby, Ladies, hangs a Tale,&#13;
  A Story for your Cakes and Ale.&#13;
  A certain _Beau_ was lately dressing,&#13;
  But sure, e'er he had crav'd Heavens Blessing;&#13;
  When in comes Friend, and finds him laid&#13;
  In mournfull plight, upon his Bed.&#13;
  Dear _Tom_, quoth he, such a Mischance&#13;
  As ne'er befell the Foes of _France_;&#13;
  Nay, I must tell thee, _Fleury_ Battel&#13;
  Was ne'er to _Europe_ half so fatal;&#13;
  For by I know not what ill luck,&#13;
  My Glass this Morn fell down and broke&#13;
  Upon my Shin, just in my Rolling;&#13;
  Now is not this worth thy condoling?&#13;
  See Stocking cut, and bloody Shin,&#13;
  Besides the Charge of healing Skin.&#13;
  'Twas the only Kindness of my Fate,&#13;
  It mist the solid Piece, my Pate.&#13;
    Ladies, this was ill luck, but you&#13;
  Have much the worser of the two;&#13;
  The World is chang'd I know not how,&#13;
  For Men kiss Men, not Women now;&#13;
  And your neglected Lips in vain,&#13;
  Of smugling _Jack_, and _Tom_ complain:&#13;
  A most unmanly nasty Trick;&#13;
  One Man to lick the other's Cheek;&#13;
  And only what renews the shame&#13;
  Of _J._ the first, and _Buckingham_:&#13;
  He, true it is, his Wives Embraces fled&#13;
  To slabber his lov'd _Ganimede_;&#13;
  But to employ, those Lips were made&#13;
  For Women in _Gomorrha_'s Trade;&#13;
  Bespeaks the Reason ill design'd,&#13;
  Of railing thus 'gainst Woman-kind:&#13;
  For who that loves as Nature teaches,&#13;
  That had not rather kiss the Breeches&#13;
  Of Twenty Women, than to lick&#13;
  The Bristles of one Male dear _Dick_?&#13;
    Now wait on _Beau_ to his _Alsatia_,&#13;
  A Place that loves no _Dei Gratia_;&#13;
  Where the Undoers live, and Undone,&#13;
  In _London_, separate from _London_;&#13;
  Where go but Three Yards from the street,&#13;
  And you with a new Language meet:&#13;
  _Prig_, _Prigster_, _Bubble_, _Caravan_,&#13;
  _Pure Tackle_, _Buttock_, _Purest pure_.&#13;
  _Sealers_, _Putts_, _Equipp_, and _Bolter_;&#13;
  _Lug out_, _Scamper_, _rub_ and _scowre_.&#13;
  _Ready_, _Rhino_, _Coal_, and _Darby_,&#13;
  _Meggs_, and _Smelts_, and _Hoggs_, and _Decus_;&#13;
  _Tathers_, _Fambles_, _Tatts_ and _Doctors_,&#13;
  _Bowsy_, _Smoaky_, _Progg_, and _Cleare_,&#13;
  _Bolter_, _Banter_, _Cut a shamm_;&#13;
  With more a great deal of the same.&#13;
  Should _Saffold_ make but half this Rattle,&#13;
  When Maidens visit his O-racle,&#13;
  They'd take him for some Son of _Cham_,&#13;
  Calling up Legion by his Name,&#13;
    Add but to this the Flanty-Tant&#13;
  Of Fopling Al-a-mode Gallant;&#13;
  Why should not _Gris_, or _Jardine_,&#13;
  Be as well allow'd as _Bien gaunte_;&#13;
  _Cloaths_ is a paltry Word _Ma foy_;&#13;
  But Grandeur in the French _Arroy_.&#13;
  _Trimming_'s damn'd English, but _le Grass_&#13;
  Is that which must for Modish pass.&#13;
  To call a Shoe a Shoe, is base,&#13;
  Let the genteel _Picards_ take Place.&#13;
  Hang _Perriwig_, 'tis only fit&#13;
  For Barbers Tongues that ne'er spoke Wit;&#13;
  But if you'd be i'th' Fashion, choose&#13;
  The far politer Term, _Chedreux_&#13;
  What Clown is he that proudly moves,&#13;
  With on his hands what we call Gloves?&#13;
  No Friend, for more refin'd converse&#13;
  Will tell ye they are _Orangers_.&#13;
  So strangely does _Parisian_ Air&#13;
  Change English Youth, that half a year&#13;
  Makes 'em forget all Native Custome,&#13;
  To bring French Modes, and _Gallic_ Lust home;&#13;
  Nothing will these Apostates please,&#13;
  But _Gallic_ Health, and French Disease.&#13;
  In French their Quarrels, and their Fears,&#13;
  Their Joys they publish, and their Cares;&#13;
  In French they quarrel, and in French&#13;
  _Mon coeur,_ they cry, to paltry Wench.&#13;
    Why then should these Extravagants&#13;
  Make such Rhime-doggeril Complaints&#13;
  Against the Ladies Dressing-Rooms,&#13;
  And closets stor'd with rich Perfumes?&#13;
  There's nothing there but what becomes&#13;
  The Plenty of a fair Estate:&#13;
  Tho' Chimney Furniture of Plate,&#13;
  Tho' Mortlake Tapestry, Damask-Bed;&#13;
  Or Velvet all Embroidered;&#13;
  Tho' they affect a handsome store,&#13;
  Of part for State, of usefull more;&#13;
  They're Glories not to be deny'd&#13;
  To Women, stopping there their Pride;&#13;
  For such a Pride has nothing ill,&#13;
  But only makes them more genteel.&#13;
  Should Nature these fine Toys produce,&#13;
  And Women be debarr'd the use?&#13;
  These are no Masculine Delights;&#13;
  Studies of Books for Men are sights;&#13;
  A Stable with good Horses stor'd,&#13;
  And Payment punctual to their Word:&#13;
  Proportion these things to my Wishes,&#13;
  Let Women take the Porcelan Dishes;&#13;
  The Toylet Plates gilt and embost,&#13;
  With all the rest of little cost;&#13;
  Such small Diffusion feeds the Poor,&#13;
  While Misers hoard up all their store.&#13;
    Our Satyr then was one of those&#13;
  Who ne'er had Wealth at his dispose;&#13;
  Or being sped to live in Plenty,&#13;
  Posted to find his Coffers empty;&#13;
  Addicted all to sport and Gaming,&#13;
  And that same Vice not worth the naming;&#13;
  Till deeply dipp'd in Us'rers Books,&#13;
  And over-rid by Cheats and Rooks,&#13;
  The _Mint_ becomes his Sanctuary,&#13;
  Where not of his past Errors weary,&#13;
  But aged grown, and impotent,&#13;
  Alike in Purse and Codpiece spent,&#13;
  He _Cynic_ turns, in _Kings-Bench_ Tub,&#13;
  And vents the Froth of Brewers Bub:&#13;
  Where we will leave him melancholly,&#13;
  Bewailing Poverty, and Folly.</p><p>A Short _Supplement_ to the _Fop-Dictionary_,&#13;
  so far as concerns the present Matter.</p><p>_Adieu donce me Cheres._&#13;
  Farewell my dear Friends.</p><p>_Arroy._&#13;
  A Suit of Cloaths.</p><p>_To adjust a Man's self._&#13;
  That is, to dress himself.</p><p>_Beau._&#13;
  A Masculine French Adjective, signifying fine but now naturaliz'd&#13;
  into _English_ to denote a sparkish dressing Fop.</p><p>_Beaux Esprits._&#13;
  A Club of Wits, who call'd themselves so.</p><p>_Bachique._&#13;
  A Drinking Song or Catch.</p><p>_The Brilliant_ of Language.&#13;
  Sharpness and wittiness of Expression.</p><p>_A Brandenburgh._&#13;
  A Morning Gown.</p><p>_To Carine a Perriwig._&#13;
  That is, to order it.</p><p>_Chedreux._&#13;
  A Perriwig.</p><p>_Correct._&#13;
  The same as Carine.</p><p>_Deshabille._&#13;
  Undrest, or rather in a careless Dress.</p><p>_En Cavalier._&#13;
  Like a Gentleman.</p><p>_Esclat._&#13;
  Of Beauty, or the Lustre of Beauty.</p><p>_Eveille._&#13;
  I observ'd her more _Eveille_ than other Women;&#13;
  that is, more sprightly and airey.</p><p>_Equipt._&#13;
  That is, well furnish'd with Money and Cloaths.</p><p>_Gaunte Bien Gaunte._&#13;
  Modish in his Gloves.</p><p>_Grossier._&#13;
  The World is very _Grossier_; that is, very dull, and&#13;
  ill bred.</p><p>_Levee and Couchee._&#13;
  Is to attend a Gentleman at his rising or going to&#13;
  Bed.</p><p>_Le Grass._&#13;
  The furniture of a Suit.</p><p>_Orangers._&#13;
  The Term for Gloves scented with Oranges.</p><p>_Picards._&#13;
  Shoes in downright English.</p><p>_Pulvillio._&#13;
  Sweet Powder for the Hair.</p><p>_Rolls._&#13;
  A sort of Dress for the Knees, invented as some say by the Roman&#13;
  Catholicks, for the conveniency of Kneeling, but others ascribe the&#13;
  lucky Fancy to Coll. S----.</p><p>_A Revoir._&#13;
  Till I see you again.</p><p>_Surtout._&#13;
  The great Coat which covers all.</p><p>For the rest you are referr'd to the Dilucidations&#13;
  of the _Alsatian_ Squire.</p><p>FINIS.</p><p>Transcriber's notes:</p><p>Other editions of Ovid's 'de Arte Amandi' quoted on the title page use&#13;
the words 'terrae' for 'terra' and 'litore' for 'littore.' Those words are&#13;
presented here as printed. Spelling was not changed, except for 'thtng'&#13;
to 'thing' ... it is no new thing for Ladies ...</p></section></body></FictionBook>
