THE CHARACTER OF THE BEAUX,  
In Five Parts.  

I. Of a Nice affencted Beaux.  
II. A Hector, or Bully Beaux.  
III. A Country Beaux.  
IV. A City Beaux.  
V. A Spruce Beaux, alias, a Lawyers Clerk.   
To which is Added: The Character OF A JACOBITE.  
Written by a Young Gentleman.  
London: Printed in the year, 1696.   

THE PREFACE.  
THE World of late being grown so censorious, and Fools that can but spell their Names, pretending to correct other Mens Works; an Author now dares not publish any Book, though never so small, without a Preface, to defend himself against the Carpings and Contumelies of the malicious Town.  
Supposing therefore my Enemies may be as numerous as another's, and that Fellows, whose Pride have got the ascendant of their little Reason, will be picking holes, not out of any Enmity they bear me, but only by contemning my Works, boast of their own Understandings; I hope my prefixing a Preface to this Six-penny business, will not be thought irrequisite.  
Some Persons may wonder, why of all things, I choose the Beaux to writ the Character of; when 'tis grown so common a Subject: True, 'tis so, and therefore the more difficult to writ upon; yet, as it is common, 'tis copious; and notwithstanding it hath been so often handled, and so much hath been said in ridicule of those tame unthinking Animals, an ingenious Person may still find new matter. Nay, upon second thoughts, 'tis now become a new Subject; for there's as much difference between a Beaux of 86, and a Beaux of 96, as between a Prim spruce City Apprentice,( with his Hair turned up in buckles, to wait upon mistress Susan the Chamber-Maid, to the Farthing Pye-House on an Easter holiday,) and a senseless Dancing-Master, that affects all the Tawdriness imaginable. What in that Age was an extravigant Beaux, is in this accounted a silly diminutive Coxcomb, to such a height of Folly and Foppery are Men arrived.  
The Character of the Beaux I am flattered may please, that of a Jacobite I hope will please, and pass without a malicious Censure, unless from those who are concerned in the satire: Yet, if despised, will admit of a good Apology, it being writ ex Tempore, and altogether at the request of the Book seller, who complained, that the scarcity of Coin had made People avarus; and that where a Man laid out sixpence, he was desirous of having much for his Money.   

The Character of the Beaus.  
THE French being Naturally a sort of Finical, Fantaslick, Ridiculous Creatures, are always very busy 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 famed of having the profoundest Capacity for a Dancing-Master, or a Valet de chamber: And many of our Nation being not so wise as 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 depressed, and 'vice and Folly countenanced, 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 quiter 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, affencted Beau: One, who from Ten till Twelve, receives Visits in Bed, where he lies most magnificently with a long periwig neatly laid over the Sheets, extravigantly powdered, and exactly curled; when the Clock has struct Twelve, that his two hours are expired, he begins to rise, and with much ado, about Three is dressed, 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 clothes, using Washes to make his hands white, beautifying his Face, putting on two or three little Patches, soaking his Handkerchief in rose-water, powdering his linen, which he pretends so stink of soap, 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 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, 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 daubed 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, 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 mien and Air; then out comes a Snuff-Box, as big as an Alderman's Tobacco-Box, lined with a bawdy Picture, and the Hand's very gracefully lifted to the Nose, to show the length of its Fingers, its whiteness, its delicacy, and the Diamond Ring; and having played a few Monkey Tricks, the music 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, 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 damned Play; then speaking to a mask, 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 writ 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 judgement now, this Scene is very pretty, and witty; then the Fop complies a little, and; with a simplo Grimace, He! He! Why faith, Madam, this is indifferent, though if such a thing had been out or in, 'twould 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 smoke 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, always endeavouring to speak Fine, and Unintelli●ibly; and, not being Master of his own Language, intermixes it with Bombast latin, 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 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 affencted; most of these, though they'd be accounted Men of Fortune, and Reputation, Persons of great Honour, virtue, 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 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 lecherous Alderman, it may be worth to him sometimes, at least, a hundred Guineas; then he may Swear, be Drunk, scour 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 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 damned Coward, drawing his Sword, and quarreling with every Body; but to be sure, either in the Park, at the Play-House, or some other open populous place, where he knows he shall be partend: And, having consumed 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 sponges a Supper.  
A Third sort is, a Country-Beau: One, who having been bread up in Ignorance, and from his Infancy lead a retired 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 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 checked, or reproved by any body, has an itch to be Rambling; and having washed his Face with Milk and Water, put on his best Leather-Breeches, tied at Knees with read fifty, his new blew Jacket, and his grey Coat, with Buttons no bigger than Nutmegs, and smugg'd himself up very handsomely, takes his best Nag, and Gallops up to London; where he is very kindly received by the Bully-Beaux, who laid wait for him before hand: He return'd their compliments to the best of his Ability, and is over joyed at their Friendship; thinking it no Scandal, but rather an Honour, to correspond with such fine well dressed Gentlemen, little imagining their Policy; they embraced him with all the Love and candour imaginable; and say, they desire no greater Felicity, than to be esteemed 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 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 dressed, he begins to think his clothes not so fine and fashionable, as they should 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 amazed at their Civility, and knows not how to recompense 'em: When he has revel'd away three or four weeks, 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 pleased 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 sum of Money besides; my Country Beau begins to smell a Rat, and has an Inclination to return home; they are mightily disturbed, and grieved at it, sorry he would leave 'em, and hoped they should soon have him again; but the Spark finding out their deceit, and having sold his best Gelding, mortgaged 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, when any new gaudy Silk is invented, and designed for a Fashion; to be sure make themselves waistcoats 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 coloured bob Wigg, very well powdered; 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 waistcoats; and when a Gentleman buys any Silk, they cry, pray Sir let me advice 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 admired it, that you see I have made myself a waistcoat on't: But I shall pass by those Whoring Fellows, as not worth my speaking of; Whoring said I! Ay! Whoring, Lewd, vicious, debauched, Drunken Fellows. Are they so? No wonder then the Sempstresses flock thither in such Numbers.  
A Fifth sort, is a Spruce Beau, otherwise called a Lawyers clerk: One, who, when his Master, on a Saturday Night, is slipped to Epsom, to take a mouthful of Air, and play a Game at bag Gammon with the person, 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 clerk, Dash, joined 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, who cries, How now Jack-Scrible? Where a pox are you going so Sparkish? I vow you are a complete Beau, a mear Beau as I live; the Fool waggs his Head, smiles, and sets his Cravat right, and is extremely pleased 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 Character OF A JACOBITE.   

The Character of a Jacobite.  
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 Understanding, he knows himself so much contemned and despised.  
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 the best of my Ability, both Edisication, and Diversion; First then for Edification.  
There are a Factions, Disloyal, Seditious sort of People, who have scattered themselves up and down this Nation, to insinuate into Mens Minds a good Opinion of the late King James, and would fain persuade 'em, that he was unlawfully dethroned; 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 judicious 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 ruin, is Rightfully, and Lawfully adjudged 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 unparalleled 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 solicited 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 rendered him unable to act; and therefore 'tis but requisite that another should succeed him as tho' 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 inhuman Usage to those who were averse to his Opinion, and Institutions, plainly demonstrates. ridiculous absurdity! and can be compared to nothing but this, that a Man who cries, I love my Liberty, 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, independent, Anabaptist, of any Religion whatsoever, with which they may cloak and smother their villainies, Treasons, and malicious Intentions; and by being of so many Religions, manifestly show, they are of no Religion. These are a sort of Seditious busy 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; so, for their livelihoods sake, were forced 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, anciently Protestants; and by him, and his Priests, seduced into the Papal Opinion: Yet notwithstanding their great esteem for their King, which was only for their private Ends, they have found their salary in France so small, and so ill paid, that most of 'em have begged leave to return to their Native Country; and I question not, but in a short time, he'll be quiter 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 malicious Libels and Pamphlets; but endeavour to deprive our Monarch of his Life, as the late Horrid Plot can testify; being a too dreadful Example of their intended villainy. But why do they so? To what end would 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 answered. What Religion suffers such Inhumanities? What Religion countenances such Barbarities, to murder 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 ruffians, Barbarians, Atheists, who believe there will be no judgement, so fear no Punishment, but will perpetrate any villainy 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 Prosper; and Virtue, Piety, and Honesty, flourish 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 wit, Dressing, and going to Plays: those capering Jack-puddings, who throughout the Year don't red 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 Sense would scorn to be seen in a Beaus Company, 'twould be a scandal to him to converse with such Apes, Wax Babies, who's greatest Ambition is to have the gaudiest Sword-string, or the best powdered Wigg. Monkeys who aim at nothing but Affectation, and smart Repartees, and value themselves chiefly upon their clothes. 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 quiter another thing now, then what it was in old Times: In ancient days the Philosophers were esteemed Wise and Learned, for having long Beards. Men and Women were adored like petty Gods and Koddesses, for wearing gay Silks, Gold, and great Stocks of Jewels: But now the only way to know a Fool, is by his fine Garb. A modest sober Man minds his interior parts, more then his exterior; yet goes neatly, mixed with a little Gentility, though not Extravagancy: No powdered 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 danced the Corant or Minuet: And speaking, cries, 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 laughed 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, enjoin 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 loathe the Name of 'em; I 'm a true Jacobite. Stop my Vitals! King James has promised me a colonels Commission to secure his Throne for him, when he comes over. But credit me, if James provides no better colonels 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 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 quarrelling and damning, yet one's as fraid to draw his Sword, as the t'other's afraid he should: 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.   
FINIS.