Of these the most voluminous Fool is the Fop Poet, who is one that has always more Wit in his Pockets than any where else, [Sidenote: _Character of a Poetaster._] yet seldom or never any of his own there. _Esop_’s _Daw_ was a _Type_ of him; For he makes himself fine with the Plunder of all Parties. He is a Smuggler of Wit, and steals _French_ Fancies without paying the customary Duties. Verse is his _Manufacture_; For it is more the labour of his Finger than his brain. He spends much time in Writing, but ten times more in Reading what he has Written. He is loaden constantly with more Papers, and duller than a _Clerk_ in _Chancery_, and spends more time in _Hearings_, and _Rehearings_. He asks your Opinion, yet for fear you shou’d not jump with him, tells you his own first. He desires no Favour, yet is disappointed, if he be not Flatter’d, and is offended always at the Truth. His first Education is generally a _Shop_, or a _Counting-House_, where his acquaintance commences with the _Bell-man_ upon a new Years day. He puts him upon Intriguing with the _Muses_, and promises to _Pimp_ for him. From this time forward he hates the name of _Mechanick_, and resolves to sell all his stock, and purchase a Plantation in _Parnassas_. He is now a Poetical _Haberdasher_ of _Small Wares_, and deals very much in _Novels_, _Madrigals_, _Riddles_, _Funeral_, and _Love Odes_, and _Elegies_, and other Toyes from _Helicon_, which he has a Shop so well furnish’d with, that he can fit you with all sorts and Sizes upon all Occasions in the twinkling of an Eye. He frequents _Apollo_’s _Exchange_ in _Covent-Garden_, and picks up the freshest Intelligence what _Plays_ are upon the Stocks, or ready to be launch’d; who have lately made a good Voyage, who a saving one only, and who have suffer’d a Wreck in _Lincoln_’s-_Inn-Feilds_, or _Drury-Lane_, and which are brought into the Dock to be Careen’d and fitted for another Voyage. He talks much of _Jack Dryden_, and _Will. Wyckerley_, and the rest of that Set, and protests he can’t help having some respect for ’em, because they have so much for him, and his Writings; otherwise he cou’d shew ’em to be meer Sots and Blockheads that understand little of Poetry, in comparison of himself; but he forbears ’em meerly out of Gratitude, and Compassion. Once a Month he fits out a small _Poetical Smeck_ at the charge of his Bookseller, which he lades with _French Plunder_ new Vampt in _English_, small Ventures of _Translated Odes_, _Elegies_ and _Epigrams_ of Young Traders, and ballasts with heavy _Prose_ of his own; for which returns are to be made to the several Owners in Testers, or applause from the Prentices and Tyre Women that deal for ’em. He is the Oracle of those that want Wit, and the Plague of those that have it; for he haunts their Lodgings, and is more terrible to ’em, than their Duns. His Pocket is an unexhaustible Magazine of _Rhime_, and _Nonsense_, and his Tongue like a