_This play, which long maintained a high degree of reputation on the stage, presents us with the truest picture of what was esteemed good breeding and wit in the reign of Charles II. All the characters, from Dorimant down to the Shoemaker, were either really drawn from the life, or depicted so accurately according to the manners of the times, that each was instantly ascribed to some individual. Sir Fopling Flutter, in particular, was supposed to represent Sir George Hewit, mentioned in the Essay on Satire, and who seems to have been one of the most choice coxcombs of the period. A very severe criticism in the_ Spectator, _pointing out the coarseness as well as the immorality of this celebrated performance, had a great effect in diminishing its popularity. The satire being in fact personal, it followed as a matter of course, that the Prologue should disclaim all personality, that being an attribute to be discovered by the audience, but not avowed by the poet. Dryden has accomplished this with much liveliness, and enumerates for our edification the special fopperies which went to make up a complete fine gentleman in_ 1676--_differing only in form from those required in_ 1806, _excepting that the ancient beau needed, to complete his character, a slight sprinkling of literary accomplishment, which the modern has discarded with the "_sacred periwig_."_ Most modern wits such monstrous fools have shown, They seem not of heaven's making, but their own. Those nauseous Harlequins in farce may pass; But there goes more to a substantial ass: Something of man must be exposed to view, That, gallants, they may more resemble you. Sir Fopling is a fool so nicely writ, The ladies would mistake him for a wit; And, when he sings, talks loud, and cocks, would cry, I vow, methinks, he's pretty company! So brisk, so gay, so travelled, so refined, As he took pains to graff upon his kind. True fops help nature's work, and go to school, To file and finish God Almighty's fool. Yet none Sir Fopling him, or him can call; He's knight o' the shire, and represents ye all. From each he meets he culls whate'er he can; Legion's his name, a people in a man. His bulky folly gathers as it goes, And, rolling o'er you, like a snow-ball, grows. His various modes from various fathers follow; One taught the toss, and one the new French wallow; His sword-knot this, his cravat that designed; And this the yard-long snake he twirls behind. From one the sacred periwig he gained, Which wind ne'er blew, nor touch of hat profaned. Another's diving bow he did adore, Which with a shog casts all the hair before, Till he, with full decorum, brings it back, And rises with a water-spaniel shake. As for his songs, the ladies' dear delight, These sure he took from most of you who write.