their own secret inviolate, which makes people believe they have not found it out. Why do we discern the failings of our friends sooner and better than we do other people's, but because we interest ourselves more in them? By the same rule, we feel our own still sooner. And possibly, in this case alone, we are kinder to our friends than to ourselves; since I very much question if a man would love his friend so well if he were faultless, and he would certainly like himself the better for being so. If this supposition be true, as I think it is, my coxcombs are both the more guilty, and the more ridiculous, as they live in a constant course of practical lying, and in the absurd and sanguine hopes of passing undetected.

Fatuus, the most consummate coxcomb of this or any other age or country, has parts enough to have excelled in almost any one thing he would have applied himself to. But he must excel in all. He must be at once a wit, a lover, a scholar, and a statesman; yet, conscious of the impracticability of the undertaking, he parcels out his accomplishments, and compounds to have the several branches of his merits admired in separate districts.

Hence, he talks politics to his women, wit to ministers of state, displays his learning to beaux, and brags of his success in gallantry to his country neighbours. His caution is a proof of his guilt, and shows that he does not deceive himself, but only hopes to impose upon others.

Fatuus's parts have undone him, and brought him to a bankruptcy of common sense and judg ment; as many have been ruined by great estates, which led them into expenses they were not able to support.

There are few so universal coxcombs as Fatuus, to whom I therefore gave the post of honour; but infinite are the number of minor coxcombs, who are coxcombs quoad hoc, and who have singled out certain accomplishments, which they are resolved to possess in spite of reluctant nature. Their most general attempts are at wit and women, as the two most shining and glittering talents in the beau monde.

Thus Protervus, who has a good serious understanding, continues to pass almost for a fool, because he will be a wit. He must shine; he admires and pursues the lustre of wit, which, like an ignis fatuus, leads him out of his way into all sorts of absurdities. He is awkwardly pert, he puns, twists words, inverts sentences, and retails in one company the scraps he has picked up in another; but still, conscious of his own insufficiency, he cautiously seeks to shine where he hopes he may dazzle, and prudently declines the encounter of the strongest eyes. How often have I seen his unnatural alacrity suddenly confounded, and shrinking into silence, at the appearance of somebody of avowed and unquestioned wit!

Ponderosus has a slow, laborious understan ding, a good memory, and, with application,

night succeed in business; but truly he must be a fine man, and succeed with women. He exposes his clumsy figure by adorning it, makes declaration of love with all the form and solemnity of a proclamation, and ridiculously consumes in revels the time he might usefully employ at the desk. He cannot be ignorant of his ill success; he feels it, but endeavours to impose upon the world, by hinting, in one set of company, his successes in another; and by whispering, in public places, with an air of familiarity, such indifferent trifles, as would not justify the woman in refusing to hear them. But how have I seen him skulk at the approach of the real favourite, and betray his consciousness of his affected character! Be it known to Ponderosus, and all those of his turn, that this vanity, besides the absurdity of it, leads them into a most immoral attempt; and that this practical defamation of a woman more justly deserves an action at law, than a coarse werd rashly uttered.

Garrulus hopes to pass for an orator, without either words or matter; it is plain he knows his own poverty, by his laborious robbery of authors. He passes the nights in book-breaking, and puts off in the day-time the stolen goods as his own; but so awkwardly and unskilfully, that they are always brought back to their true owners.

Bavius, ballasted with all the lead of a Ger man, will rise into poetry, without either ear

I must observe, that the word corcomb is of the common gender, both masculine and feminine, and that the male coxcombs are equalled in number by the female ones, who shall be the subject of my next paper.

AFFECTATION IN THE FEMALE SEX.

Having, in my former paper, censured, with freedom, the affectations and follies of my own sex, I flatter myself, that I shall meet with the indulgence of the ladies, while I consider, with the same impartiality, those weaknesses and vanities, to which their sex is as liable as ours, and, if I dare say so, rather more, as their sphere of action is more bounded and circumscribed. Man's province is universal, and comprehends every thing, from the culture of the earth to the government of it; men only become coxcombs, by assuming particular characters, for which they are particularly unfit, though others may shine in those very characters. But the case of the fair sex is quite different; for there are many characters, which are not of the feminine gender, and, consequently, there may be two kinds of woman coxcombs; those who affect what does not fall within their department, and those who go out of their own natural characters, though they keep within the female province.

I should be very sorry to offend, where I only mean to advise and reform; I therefore