Note 111 — Chapter VII · DAILY LIFE. (Men.)

Our Native Speech we must forget, ere long, To learn the French, that much more Modish Tongue. Their Language smoother is, hath pretty Aires; But ours is Gothick, if compar'd with theirs. The French by Arts of smoother Insinuation, Are now become the Darlings of the Nation; His Lordship's Valet must be bred in France, Or else he is a Clown without Pretence: The English Blockheads are in Dress so coarse, They're fit for nothing, but to rub a Horse, Her Ladyship's ill-manner'd or ill-bred, Whose Woman, Confident, or Chamber Maid, Did not in France suck in her first breath'd Air, Or did not gain hir Education there; Our Cooks in dressing have no Skill at all. They're only fit to serve an Hospital, Or to prepare a Dinner for a Camp; French Cooks are only of the Modish Stamp.[111]