Fops take a world of pains, to prove that bodies can exist without brains; the former so fantastically drest, that the latter's absence may be safely guessed.
A shallow brain, behind a serious mask; an oracle within an empty cask—the solemn fop!
Foppery is the egotism of clothes.
Foppery is never cured; it is of the bad stamina of the mind, which, like those of the body, are never rectified.—Once a coxcomb, always a coxcomb.
The soul of this man is in his clothes.
Puppets, who, though on idiotism's dark brink, because they've heads, dare fancy they can think!