University of Virginia Library

To his friend Mr. Em. D. on a rich vaporing sot, whom hee stiles Ignoramus.

Blesse us! why here's a thing as like a man,
As Nature to our fancie fashion can.
Beshrew mee, but he has a pretty face,
And weares his rapier with indifferent grace.
Makes a neat congie, dances well, and sweares:
And weares his Mistresse pendant in his eares:
Has a neat foot as ever kist the ground,
His shoes and roses cost at least five pound.
Those hose have not a peere, for by relation,
They're cut a moneth at least since the last fashion.
He knowes two Ladies that will vow there's none
At Court, a man of parts, but he alone.
And yet this fop, scarce ever learn'd to know
The mixture of the dis-joyn'd Christ-crosse row.
Strip off his ragges, and the poore thing is then
The just contempt of understanding men,
Being Fortunes minion, Nature thought it fit,
Since he had wealth enough, he should want wit.