THE
Beaus Receipt for a Ladys Dress.
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HANG a small bugle cap on, as big as a crown,
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Snout it off with a flowr, vulgo dict. a Pompoou,
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Let your powder be gay, and braid up your hair,
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Like the mane of a colt to be sold at a fair.
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Like the mane, etc.
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A short pair of jumps, half an ell from your chin,
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To make you appear like one just lying-in;
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Before your brest pin a stomacher bib on,
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Ragout it with curlets of silver and ribbon.
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Your neck and your shoulders both naked should be,
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A-la-mode de Vandyke, blown with chevaux de frize,
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Let your gown be a sack, blue, yellow, or green,
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And frizzle your elbows with ruffles sixteen.
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Furl off your lawn apron with flounces in rows,
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Puff and pucker up knots on your arms and your toes,
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Make your petticoats short, that a hoop 8 yards wide
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May decently shew how your garters are tyd.
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With fringes of knotting your dicky cabob,
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On slippers of velvet set gold a-la-daube;
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But mount on french heels when you go to a ball,
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Tis the fashion to totter, and shew you can fall.
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Throw modesty out from your manners and face,
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A la-mode de francois, youre a bit for his Grace.
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The Ladys Receipt for a Beaus Dress.
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SINCE, Sir, you have made it your study to vex,
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And audaciously laugh at the dress of our sex,
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Pray dont be so blind to the faults of your own,
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But let them, I say, in the next lines be shewn.
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Instead of small caps, you must then add small wigs,
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The tail of which mostly resembles a pigs;
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Put a hat upon that, and point it up high,
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Just like to an arrow thats aimd at the sky.
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At the corner of which, I pray dont forget,
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Hang a tassel of silver, to make it compleat;
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Let the stock be well plaited, in fanciful forms,
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Whilst a fine diamond heart the shirt bosom adorns.
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Let the sword-hilt be coverd with ribbon good store,
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Lest the roughness around make the tender hand sore;
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Yet no need is for that, for theyll certainly fly
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The place where they think any danger is nigh.
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His coat is to be but a foot from his waist,
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And fixd as tight too as if it were lacd;
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In his pocket a housewife and pincushion place,
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Not forgetting a glass to shew his sweet face.
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With stockings of silk, nothing less can such please,
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Bind his legs round with silver an inch above knees,
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Hang a tassel to that, or else it wont do,
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And in length it must reach half way to his shoe.
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His bright buckles of stone, of five guineas price,
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To adorn his neat feet, and make him more nice:
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Thus drest and equipt, tis plain to be seen,
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Hes not one jot better than monsieur Pantin.
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