The foremost of the whole rank of toasts, and the most undisputed in
their present empire, are Mrs. Gatty and Mrs. Frontlet: the first, an
agreeable; the second, an awful beauty. These ladies are perfect
friends, out of a knowledge that their perfections are too different to
stand in competition. He that likes Gatty can have no relish for so
solemn a creature as Frontlet; and an admirer of Frontlet will call
Gatty a maypole-girl. Gatty for ever smiles upon you; and Frontlet
disdains to see you smile. Gatty's love is a shining quick flame;
Frontlet's a slow wasting fire. Gatty likes the man that diverts her;
Frontlet him who adores her. Gatty always improves the soil in which she
travels; Frontlet lays waste the country. Gatty does not only smile, but
laughs at her lover; Frontlet not only looks serious, but frowns at him.
All the men of wit (and coxcombs their followers) are professed servants
of Gatty: the politicians and pretenders give solemn worship to
Frontlet. Their reign will be best judged of by its duration. Frontlet
will never be chosen more; and Gatty is a toast for life.
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