THE French being Na­turally a sort of Fini­cal, Fantaslick, Ridicu­lous Creatures, are always very busie in Emulating one another's Fooleries, but particularly to ex­ceed each other in Dress; and their chiefest Endeavours are, who shall be most Foppish, or run away with the Fame of ha­ving the profoundest Capacity for a Dancing-Master, or a Va­let de Chambre: And many of our Nation being not so wise as [Page 10]we might expect, are very am­bitious of imitating their Fashi­ons, and have attributed to them­selves the Name of Beau, which is Originally French, and in our Language signifies Fine, or Hand­some.

Since therefore Virtue is so much Deprest, and Vice and Folly Countenanc'd, I thought it not un-necessary to give to the World a Description of a Beau, that Men of Sense may laugh at 'em; and those senseless Animals, if they are not quite stupid and irrecoverable, may leave their Fopperies, and become Men, who are now but Monsters.

And as they are of various kinds, I shall first Commence with what we call a Nice, Affect­ed Beau: One, who from Ten till Twelve, receives Visits in Bed, where he lyes most magni­ficently with a long Perriwig neatly laid over the Sheets, ex­travigantly powder'd, and ex­actly curl'd; when the Clock has struct Twelve, that his two hours are expir'd, he begins to rise, and with much ado, about Three is drest, which we must allow to be but a very small time, considering how many lit­tle phidling insignificant things he has to adorn himself withal; as perfuming his Cloaths, using [Page 12]Washes to make his hands white, beautifying his Face, putting on two or three little Patches, soak­ing his Handkerchief in Rose­water, powdering his Linnen, which he pretends so stink of Sope, he's not able to bear it; and chiefly tying on his Cravat, which perhaps is done and un­done a dozen times, before it sets with an Air according to his Mind. Between Three and Four he Dines, and his constant Food is either a Chicken, a Rah­bet, a Partridge, or for variety, a little fresh Fish; Mutton, Beef, Pork, or Veal, being too strong for his nice Stomach, and sitter for the grosser and more robust [Page 13]sort of Mortals, as he styles 'em. About Four he bids his Dog call a Chair, and away he mar­ches to the Chocalate-House, where he affirms himself to be a Wit; and is frequently chringing into Company, though he knows himself not in the least accepta­ble; continually interrupting others more serious Discourse, to force out his dry Jests, which are always Foolish, if not down­right Nonsense, and never move any body but his own insipid Self. But his chiefest aim is, to converse with the Poets, and be of their Society; to be familiar with 'em, and (if he can) a Cronie; that when occasion serves, [Page 14]he may make use of their Brains for a Song, or a Copy of Verses on such a Ladies Beauty, which he swears (when conversant with the Ladies) to be his own. By that time he has spent an hour at Will's, or the Chocolate-House, 'tis almost time for the Play; and having put himself in Order, ad­justed his Cravat and Wig, and daub'd his Face with Snuff, he very soberly enters the House; first in one side Box, then in t'other; next in the Pit, and sometimes in the Galleries, that the Vulgar sort may as well behold and admire the Magnificence of his Apparel, as those of Quality: Before the Play's half done, [Page 15]whip he's at t'other House, and being in the Pit, between every Act leaps upon the Benches, to show his Shape, his Leg, his Scarlet Stockings, his Meen and Air; then out comes a Snuff-Box, as big as an Alderman's To­bacco-Box, lin'd with a bawdy Picture, and the Hand's very gracefully lifted to the Nose, to shew the length of its Fingers, its whiteness, its delicacy, and the Diamond Ring; and ha­ving play'd a few Monkey Tricks, the Musick ceases, and the Gentleman descends, bowing this way, that way, and t'other way, that the Ladies in the Boxes may take notice of him, [Page 16]and think him a Person of Qua­lity, known and respected by every body: Then, while the Play's Acting, he turns his Back to the Stage, as disregarding such Nonsense; and crying, Damme, here's a dam'd Play; then speak­ing to a Masque, Madam, says he, How can your Ladayship sit it? Why, Sir, says she? Me­thinks 'tis very tolerable: O ged Madam! no, the Devil take me if I cou'dn't write a more to­lerable one ex Tempore: But if she still persists to commend it, and will needs confute him, as O dear Sir! I'm sure you wrong your Judgment now, this Scene is very pretty, and witty; then [Page 17]the Fop complies a little, and; with a simple Grimace, He! He! Why faith, Madam, this is in­different, though if such a thing had been out or in, 'twou'd ha'been much better; still criticising, and pretending to amend what he does not understand: When an Hour or two's spent there, he goes to the Park, and, creeping to a Lady, O Madam, I'm al­most suffocated; stop my Vitals! the Smoak of London is unsufferable: How does your Ladyship find it? yet, not permitting her to An­swer; O Madam, renounce me, if I am not ready to expire; your Ladyship's most humble Servant: Then the same Stuff to another, [Page 18]always endeavouring to speak Fine, and Unintelli [...]ibly; and, not being Master of his own Lan­guage, intermixes it with Bom­bast Latine, and scraps of French, that the Ladies may take him for a Man of Parts, and a true Lin­guist: When he has pretty well wearied himself with that Di­version, he walks to some La­dy's Lodgings in Pell-Mell, or St. James's Square; where he spends three or four Hours at Ombre, or Tick [...]ack, and so Home again.

Another sort of Beau, is what we generally style a Hector, or Bully-Beau: One, who having [Page 19]no Estate to subsist on, is sorc'd to live by his Wits; yet is a Man of Mode, and strives to be soon in every new Fashion, as well as the former, though in e­very respect, not so extravagant­ly Tawdry, and Affected; most of these, though they'd be ac­counted Men of Fortune, and Reputation, Persons of great Honour, Vertue, Merit, and Esteem, yet are glad to Pimp and Sharp about the Town to get a Penny; this Man, by his o­ver Industry, having a little good Breeding, or some other taking Quality about him, insinuates himself into some Countess's Fa­vour, who having a Husband [Page 20]not capable of doing her Rea­son, secretly entertains him for her Stallion; that Man turns down-right Pimp, and under­takes to help Men to Whores, and Whores to Cullys; and if he can but procure a pretty Wench for an old Letcherous Al­derman, it may be worth to him sometimes, at least, a hundred Guineas; then he may Swear, be Drunk, scowre the Streets, knock down Watch-men, and break Windows with as much Autho­rity as e're a Lord in the King­dom; t'other Man being a more subtle, crafty Rogue, slily watch­es his Hits, and hires Men to give him Intelligence of what [Page 21]raw Heirs, who have more Mo­ney than Wit, are lately come of Age, and how he shall get acquainted with 'em; so, by his false Dice, and other juggling Tricks, he finds an opportunity to make his Fortune out of theirs: These are a kind of Bul­ly-Beaux; though a Hector or Bully Beau, in general, is one who bilks Coaches, runs from Taverns without paying the Reckoning, forces into Play-Houses gratis; and, though a damn'd Coward, drawing his Sword, and quarrelling with e­very Body; but to be sure, either in the Park, at the Play-House, or some other open populous [Page 22]place, where he knows he shall be parted: And, having consum'd great part of his Money at [...]a [...]dy-Houses, and Tennis-Courts, sneaks in at Night at the Royal-Oake-Lottery in Suf­folk street, lays two or three Six­pences upon Quarters, and by that means spunges a Supper.

A Third sort is, a Country-Beau: One, who having been bred up in Ignorance, and from his Infancy led a retir'd Coun­try Life, and consequently un­acquainted with the Tricks and Cheats of the Town, comes to an Estate before he is ripe of Understanding: No sooner the [Page 23]Old Dad's laid in the Ground, but the young Squire, consider­ing the greatness of his Estate, that he's at his own disposal, may do what he will, say what he will, and go where he will, without be­ing check'd, or reprov'd by any body, has an itch to be Ramb­ling; and having wash'd his Face with Milk and Water, put on his best Leather-Breeches, ty'd at Knees with red Taffety, his new blew Jacket, and his grey Coat, with Buttons no bigger than Nutmegs, and smugg'd himself up very handsomly, takes his best Nag, and Gallops up to London; where he is very kindly receiv'd by the Bully-Beaux, [Page 24]who laid wait for him before hand: He return'd their Complements to the best of his Ability, and is over joy'd at their Friendship; thinking it no Scandal, but rather an Honour, to correspond with such fine well drest Gentlemen, little imagining their Policy; they embrac'd him with all the Love and Candor imaginable; and say, they desire no greater Feli­city, than to be esteem'd his Friends. First, they carry him to Westminster to see the Tombs, then on board the Folly, next to Spring-Garden, and to Billings­gate to eat Oysters, Treating him very highly, and not permitting [Page 25]him to pay a Farthing; some­time after he goes to a Play, and is mightily taken with that Sport; but seeing the Beaus there so gaily drest, he begins to think his Cloaths not so fine and fa­shionable, as they shou'd be, and is very ambitious of equalling 'ern, knowing his Means suffici­ent to afford it; the Bully Beaus, his true hearty Friends, and Comrades, supply him with all Necessaries, teach him a little Breeding, buy him a noble long Wigg, and all still at their own Costs; he is amaz'd at their Ci­vility, and knows not how to Recompence 'em: When he has revel'd away three or four weeks, [Page 26]and is become intimate, and ve­ry familiar; one of his trusty Companions makes a motion to take a Game at Hazard, for E­venings being long, they know not how to waste their Time; he is pleas'd at the motion, but ob­jects, he does not understand the Came; they are very ready and willing, being a particular Friend, to instruct him; so ha­ving him once safe in their chutch­es, make his Pocket pay for all the Treats, and an unaccounta­ble Summ of Money besides; my Country Beau begins to smell a Rat, and has an Inclination to return home; they are mighti­ly disturb'd, and griev'd at it, [Page 27]sorry he would leave 'em, and hop'd they shou'd soon have him again; but the Spark sinding out their deceit, and ha­ving sold his best Gelding, Mort­gag'd his Estate, and it's like got the Pox by the Whores those Fellows brought him to, fairly and soberly trots down again, upon a Carriers Horse, repenting of his Folly, and re­solving to do Pennance for his past Luxury.

A Fourth sort, is a City Beau, the greatest part of which, dwell in Pater-Noster-Rom; I mean the Mercers Apprentices, and some of the Masters; Fellows, who, [Page 28]when any new Gawdy Silk is invented, and design'd for a Fashion; to be sure make them­selves Wastcoats of it first, that Folks may take example by them, and they may be the first in the Mode; to which they commonly add, a black Coat and a pair of white Stockings; but above all, a light colour'd bob Wigg, very well powder'd; being thus accouter'd, more like Actors then any thing else; they stand half a dozen hours at the Door, with their Coats o­pen, that Folks passing by, may see their fine Wastcoats; and when a Gentleman buys any Silk, they cry, pray Sir let me [Page 29]advise you to this Piece, 'tis the prettiest you ever saw; pray Sir, take my word for't, there's not such a Silk again, in the whole Row; it ha'n't been made above these three days, and I so admir'd it, that you see I have made my self a Wastcoat on't: But I shall pass by those Who­ring Fellows, as not worth my speaking of; Whoring said I! Ay! Whoring, Lewd, Vitious, De­bauch'd, Drunken Fellows. Are they so? No wonder then the Sempstresses flock thither in such Numbers.

A Fifth sort, is a Spruce Beau, otherwise call'd a Lawyers [Page 30]Clark: One, who, when his Ma­ster, on a Saturday Night, is slipt to Epsom, to take a mouthful of Air, and play a Game at Bagg Gammon with the Parson, dresses himself to the best advantage, powders his Hair, and his Coat to the middle of his Back; and putting on his white Gloves, a Patch on his right Cheek, and the Brass hilted Sword, which he, and his Fellow Clark, Dash, joyn'd for last Bartholomew Fair; marches up Fleet-street, with his clean white Handkerchief hang­ing half way out of his Pocket, that he may look careless for­sooth; and by the way, meets with one of his old Comrades, [Page 31]who cries, How now Jack-Scri­ble? Where a pox are you go­ing so Sparkish? I vow you are a compleat Beau, a mear Beau as I live; the Fool waggs his Head, smiles, and sets his Cravat right, and is extreamly pleas'd you afford him the Title; part­ing with his Friend, he steers his course to the Play; where he is commonly seen in the 18 d. Gallery, at the two last Acts: These are what sort of Beaus I can at present think off; when I see what Reception these meet with, I shall furnish the Town with some more, for such Mon­sters are plentiful enough.

THE Laws of this Land be­ing so well Established by his present Majesty, King William; the Liberties we enjoy under him being so many, and the Love and Affecti­on which our Sovereign bears us being so great, 'tis almost a Miracle that any Person can be a Jacobite, especially one who resides in this Kingdom; where, by all Men of Sense, Religion, or Ʋnderstanding, he knows himself so much contemn'd and dispis'd.

Yet as there are different Sectaries, both reasonable and foolish, we must allow Jacobitism to be one, but cer­tainly the most foolish in Nature; and I shall endeavour to expose it to [Page 36]the best of my Ability, both Edisica­tion, and Diversion; First then for Edification.

There are a Factions, Disloyal, Se­ditious sort of People, who have scat­ter'd themselves up and down this Nation, to insinuate into Mens Minds a good Opinion of the late King James, and wou'd fain per­swade 'em, that he was unlawfully dethron'd; and that King William has no Right to the Crown, but is a Usurper, which is on both sides ap­parently false; and every sensible and juditious Man must needs own, First, That King James was uncapable of Ruling in a Protestant Realm, having apostasiz'd to Popery: And then, that his now Majesty coming to our Suc­cour, endangering his Life for our Sakes, and assisting us to recover our Liberties, when we were at the brink of Ruine, is Rightfully, and Lawful­ly [Page 37]adjudg'd King; and 'tis but his Merit: For who better deserves a Crown, and to have Authority over a People, than he who delivers 'em from Slavery, restores 'em to their Rights and Customs, preserves their Religion? And by his unparallel'd Valour, subdues all their Enemies. Though by their leaves, our now Monarch, and our late Queen, were no Usurpers; neither did they desire the Crown, but were sollicited to ac­cept it; though if they had, 'twas nothing but their Real, True, undoubt­ed, and undeniable Due, the Queen being Eldest Daughter to King James, and next Heir, notwithstanding that upstart Brat, the pretended Prince of Wales. And though King James is not dead in Person, yet he is dead in Law, the Decrees of Parliament ha­ving render'd him unable to act; and therefore 'tis but requisite that another should succeed him as tho' [Page 38]he were actual dead; especially when he ran away, and left the Throne va­cant. Yet these Jacobites, who with so much Vigour stand up for their Old King, and strive to vindicate his Cause, pretend to be Protestants; and say, that though their Religion is dearer to 'em than their Lives, yet their Consciences cannot permit King James, though a Papist, to be Abdicated Stupidity! that any Man who professes Protestantism, can love a Popish Ruler: Nay, who was not only a Papist, a Promoter of Popery, but an Enemy to the Protestant Re­ligion; as his Actions, his suffering so many Priests and Jesuits, his Erecting such a number of Mass-houses, and his cruel and inhumane Usage to those who were averse to his Opini­on, and Institutions, plainly demon­strates. Rediculous absurdity! and can be compar'd to nothing but this, that a Man who cries, I love my Li­berty, [Page 39]my Pleasure, my Freedom, my Ease, and yet adore him who molests me, blocks me up, persecutes me, and unjustly puts me in Prison. No, no, they are no Protestants; Protestant is a Fallacy, a bare Name, they are Fergusonians, that is, any thing, Pro­testant, Presbyterian, Papist, Mahome­tan, Independant, Anabaptist, of any Religion whatsoever, with which they may cloak and smother their Villanies, Treasons, and malitious In­tentions; and by being of so many Religions, manifestly show, they are of no Religion. These are a sort of Seditious busie Rascals that are so prejuditial to a Government, and 'tis but his Majesties too much Cle­mency, that brings 'em to such a height of Impudence.

Another sort of Jacobites are those, who live by the late King James, and depend altogether on his Court; [Page 40]so, for their Livelyhoods sake, were forc'd to depart the Kingdom with him, though the greatest part left their Hearts behind 'em: These we ought rather to pity, than punish, being, many of 'em, antiently Pro­testants; and by him, and his Priests, seduc'd into the Papal Opinion: Yet notwithstanding their great esteem for their King, which was only for their private Ends, they have found their Sallery in France so small, and so ill paid, that most of 'em have begg'd leave to return to their Na­tive Country; and I question not, but in a short time, he'll be quite de­stitute of Attendants.

A third sort of Jacobites are those, who are not content to rail against the King and Government, to Com­pose, Print, and Publish their scurri­lous, false, and malitious Libels and Pamphlets; but endeavour to deprive [Page 41]our Monarch of his Life, as the late Horrid Plot can testifie; being a too dreadful Example of their intended Villany. But why do they so? To what end wou'd they commit such Outrages? Why! they tell you, because the King admits not of their Religion. What is their Religion? a quere very difficult to be answer'd. What Religion suffers such Inhuma­nities? What Religion countenances such Barbarities, to murther Kings? Nay, and in cool Blood! Subvert a State, and enslave a People? None. Why then do they act thus? Why! For Lucre. They are Ruffins, Bar­barians, Atheists, who believe there will be no Judgment, so fear no Pu­nishment, but will perpetrate any Villany for a Reward. This sort of Jacobites is the most pernicious to the State, of all; and ought carefully to be rooted out, that the King may Live, and be Happy; the Subjects [Page 42]Prosper; and Virtue, Piety, and Ho­nesty, florish amongst us, and endure to Perpetuity. But now for a little Diversion.

A Fourth sort of Jacobites, are the Beaus; Ha! ha! ha! they Jacobites▪ What those Asses, who mind nothing but Witt, Dressing, and going to Plays: those capering Jack-puddings, who throughout the Year don't read a Gazette? Prithee, Why are they Ja­cobites? why! because 'tis the fashi­on; the Ladies at t'other end of the Town are generally Jacobites; so they are under an Obligation of be­ing so too, lest they disoblige 'em; for if the Ladies discard 'em, they may go hang themselves, their Fe­licity altogether depending on their Smiles, and corresponding with 'em; being a Crew of Effeminate, Self-admiring Fools, not fit for the So­ciety of Men: Nay, truly a Man of [Page 43]Sense wou'd scorn to be seen in a Beaus Company, 'twould be a scan­dal to him to converse with such Apes, Wax Babies, who's gre [...]test Ambition is to have the gaudiest Sword-string, or the best powder'd Wigg. Monkeys who aim at no­thing but Affectation, and smart Re­partees, and value themselves chiefly upon their Cloaths. Silly, insigni­ficant Fools, who are always com­posing Lampoons, and striving to ridicule other Men, little consider­ing an insipid Lampoon, or Panygerick upon another, is a more severe Li­bel upon themselves. The Age is quite another thing now, then what it was in old Times: In antient days the Philosophers were esteem'd Wise and Learned, for having long Beards. Men and Women were ador'd like petty Gods and Koddesses, for wear­ing gay Silks, Gold, and great Stocks of Jewels: But now the only way to [Page 44]know a Fool, is by his fine Garb. A modest sober Man minds his inte­riour parts, more then his exteriour; yet goes neatly, mixt with a little Gentility, though not Extravagancy: No powder'd Coat, Buttons like Ten­nis-balls; a patch on his Nose, broad Silver Loops, like an Actor in the Play-House; and when he walks, sink and cope, as though he danc'd the Corant or Minuet: And speaking, cryes, Dam me, at every word. What ridiculous Monsters are these! Fel­lows that never pass the Streets, but attract the Eyes of more People, then a Merry Andrew upon a Mountebank Stage. Yet, though they see they are laugh'd at, are not daunted in the least, but take a pride to frequent the most populous Places, where they know they shall be most stair'd at. But to return to my former Di­scourse; the Women I say, aiming at that modish Name, Jacobite, en­joyn [Page 45]the Beaus to do the like; and when they are in Company with 'em, will often start up this questi­on; as, well Sir Novelty, Who are you for, King James, or King Wil­liam? He having so much Sense to know the Lady's for James, placing him first, crys, O God, Madam! I'm a Jacobite. Ay, indeed Sir, says she, I'm o'your Mind; the Williamites are such slovenly Fellows,— O! Pox take 'em, Madam, nauseous Puppies, I loath the Name of 'em; I'm a true Jacobite. Stop my Vitals! King James has promis'd me a Collonels Commission to secure his Throne for him, when he comes over. But credit me, if James provides no bet­ter Collonels and Captains than they, to assist him in the recovery of his Throne, he'll never come over, nor have occasion for those Nincom­poops to secure it for him. But these Fops, who are such violent [Page 46]exclaimers against King William, are as good Williamites, when the Com­pany they are with are so, as the best; they are always conformable to the Society they are in, lest they should occasion a quarrel: For, tho' they are confounded Hectors, yet are as confounded Cowards; and though two Beaus, when they meet, are commonly quarreling and damn­ing, yet one's as fraid to draw his Sword, as the t'other's afraid he shou'd: But 'tis time to conclude, tho' the Subject is copious enough for a Sheet more. If this please, it may perhaps excite me to some other such-like Undertaking.