[_double rule_] A HUFFING COURTIER I²S a Cypher, that has no Value himſelf, but from the Place he ſtands in. All his Hap- pineſs conſiſts in the Opinion he believes others have of it. This is his Faith, but as it is he- retical and erroneous, though he ſuffer much Tribulation for it, he continues obſtinate, and not to be convinced. He flutters up and down like a Butterfly in a Garden ; and while he is pruning of his Peruque takes Occaſion to con- template his Legs, and the Symmetry of his Britches. He is part of the Furniture of the Rooms, and ſerves for a walking Picture, a moving Piece of Arras. His Buſineſs is only to be ſeen, and he performs it with admirable Industry, placing himself always in the beſt Light, looking wonderfully Politic, and cau- tious whom he mixes withal. His Occupation is to ſhow his Cloaths, and if they could but walk themselves, they would ſave him the  ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Labour, and do his Work as well as himſelf. His Immunity from Varlets is his Freehold, and he were a loſt Man without it. His Cloaths are but his Taylor's Livery, which he gives him, for ’tis ten to one he never pays for them. He is very careful to diſcover the Lining of his Coat, that you may not ſuſpect any Want of Integrity of Flaw in him from the Skin outwards. His Taylor is his Creator, and makes him of nothing ; and though he lives by Faith in him, he is perpetually com_ mitting Iniquities againſt him. His Soul dwells in the Outſide of him, like that of a hollow Tree ; and if you do but pill the Bark off him he deceaſes immediately. His Carriage of himſelf is the wearing of his Cloaths, and, like the Cinamon Tree, his Bark is better than his Body. His looking big is rather a Tumor, than Greatneſs. He is an Idol, that has juſt ſo much Value, as other Men give him that believe in him, but none of his own. He makes his Ignorance paſs for Reſerve, and, like a Hunting-nag, leaps over what he cannot get through. He has juſt ſo much of Politics, as Hoſtlers in the Univerſity have _Latin_. He is as humble as a Jeſuit to his Superior ; but re- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ pays himſelf again in Inſolence over thoſe, that are below him ; and with a generous Scorn deſpiſes thoſe, that can neither do him good, nor hurt. He adores thoſe, that may do him good, though he knows they never will ; and deſpiſes thoſe, that would not hurt him, if they could. The Court is his Church, and he believes as that believes, and cries up and down every Thing, as he finds it paſs there. It is a great Comfort to him to think, that ſome who do not know him may perhaps take him for a Lord ; and while that Thought laſts he looks bigger than uſual, and forgets his Acquain- tance ; and that's the Reaſon why he will ſome- times know you, and ſometimes not. Nothing but want of Money or Credit puts him in mind that he is mortal ; but then he truſts Providence that ſomebody will truſt him ; and in Expectation of that hopes for a better Life, and that his Debts will never riſe up in Judg- ment against him. To get in debt is to labour in his Vocation ; but to pay is to forfeit his Protection ; for what’s that worth to one that owes Nothing ? His Employment being only to wear his Cloaths, the whole Account of his Life and Actions is recorded in Shopkeepers Books, that are his faithful Hiſtoriographers to ------------------------------------------------------------------------ their own Poſterity ; and he believes he loſes ſo much Reputation, as he pays off his Debts ; and that no Man wears his Cloaths in Faſhion, that pays for them, for noting is further from the Mode. He believes that he that runs in Debt is beforehand with thoſe that truſt him, and only thoſe, that pay, are behind. His Brains are turned giddy, like one that walks on the Top of a Houſe ; and that’s the Reaſon it is ſo troubleſome to him to look downwards. He is a Kind of Spectrum, and his Cloaths are the Shape he takes to appear and walk in ; and when he puts them off he vaniſhes. He runs as buſily out of one Room into another, as a great Practiſer does in _Weſtminſter_-Hall from one Court to another. When he accoſts a Lady he puts both Ends of his Microcoſm in Motion, by making Legs at one End, and combing his Peruque at the other. His Gar- niture is the Sauce to his Cloaths, and he walks in his Portcannons like one, that ſtalks in long Graſs. Every Motion of him crys _Vanity of_ _Vanities, all is Vanity,_ quoth the Preacher. He rides himself like a well-managed Horſe, reins in his Neck, and walks _Terra Terra_. He carries his elbows backward, as if he were ------------------------------------------------------------------------ pinioned like a truſt-up Fowl, and moves as ſtiff as if he was upon the Spit. His Legs are ſtuck in his great voluminous Britches, like the Whiſtles in a Bagpipe, thoſe abundant Britches, in which his nether Parts are not cloathed, but packt up. His Hat has been long in a Conſumption of the Faſhion, and is now almoſt worn to Nothing ; if it do not recover quickly it will grown too little for a Head of Garlick. He wears Garniture on the Toes of his Shoes to juſtify his Prentenſions to the Gout, or ſuch other Malady, that for the Time being is moſt in Fashion or Requeſt. When he ſalutes a Friend he pulls off his Hat, as Wo- men do their Vizard-Maſques. His Ribbons are of the true Complexion of his Mind, a Kind of painted Cloud or gawdy Rainbow, that has no Colour of it ſelf, but what is bor- rows from Reflection. He is as tender of his Cloaths, as a Coward is of his Fleſh, and as loth to have them diſordered. His Bravery is all his Happineſs ; and like _Atlas_ he carries his Heaven on his Back. He is like the golden Fleece, a fine Outſide on a Sheep’s Back. He is a Monſter or an _Indian_ Creature, that is good for nothing in the World but to be ſeen. He puts himſelf up into a Sedan, like a Fiddle ------------------------------------------------------------------------ in a Caſe, and is taken out again for the La- dies to play upon, who when they have done with him, let down his treble-String, till they are in the Humour again. His Cook and Va- let de Chambre conſpire to dreſs Dinner and him ſo punctually together, that the one may not be ready before the other. As Peacocks and Oſtridges have the gaudieſt and fineſt Feathers, yet cannot fly ; ſo all his Bravery is to flutter only. The Beggars call him _my Lord,_ and he takes them at their Words, and pays them for it. If you praiſe him, he is ſo true and faith- ful to the Mode, that he never fails to make you a Preſent of himſelf, and will not be re- fuſed, tho’ you know not what to do with him when you have him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------