Foppery

"'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write, As fopplings grin to snow their teeth are white."

"I marched the lobby, twirled my stick, * * * * * The girls all cried, "He's quite the kick.""

"Of all the fools that pride can boast, A Coxcomb claims distinction most."

"A beau is one who arranges his curled locks gracefully, who ever smells of balm, and cinnamon; who hums the songs of the Nile, and Cadiz; who throws his sleek arms into various attitudes; who idles away the whole day among the chairs of the ladies, and is ever whispering into some one's ear; who reads little billets-doux from this quarter and that, and writes them in return; who avoids ruffling his dress by contact with his neighbour's sleeve, who knows with whom everybody is in love; who flutters from feast to feast, who can recount exactly the pedigree of Hirpinus. What do you tell me? is this a beau, Cotilus? Then a beau, Cotilus, is a very trifling thing."

"Nature made every fop to plague his brother, Just as one beauty mortifies another."

"A lofty cane, a sword with silver hilt, A ring, two watches, and a snuff box gilt."

"This is the excellent foppery of the world."

"A fop? In this brave, licentious age To bring his musty morals on the stage? Rhime us to reason? and our lives redress In metre, as Druids did the savages."

"Has death his fopperies?"