He was a wight of high renowne,
And thosne but of a low degree:
Itt's pride that putts the countrye downe,
Man, take thine old cloake about thee.
My galligaskins, that have long withstood
The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts,
By time subdued (what will not time subdue!)
An horrid chasm disclosed.
The soul of this man is his clothes.
Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my clothes?
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring.
So tedious is this day,
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child, that hath new robes,
And may not wear them.
With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings,
With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things;
With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery,
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery.
He will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a color she abhors; and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests.
Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow,
Emblem right meet of decency does yield.
Now old Tredgortha's dead and gone,
We ne'er shall see him more;
He used to wear an old grey coat,
All buttoned down before.
She wears her clothes as if they were thrown on her with a pitchfork.
Attired to please herself: no gems of any kind
She wore, nor aught of borrowed gloss in Nature's stead;
And, then her long, loose hair flung deftly round her head
Fell carelessly behind.
So for thy spirit did devise
Its Maker seemly garniture,
Of its own essence parcel pure,—
From grave simplicities a dress,
And reticent demureness,
And love encinctured with reserve;
Which the woven vesture would subserve.
For outward robes in their ostents
Should show the soul's habiliments.
Therefore I say,—Thou'rt fair even so,
But better Fair I use to know.
O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
And heightens ease with grace.
Her polish'd limbs,
Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire;
Beyond the pomp of dress; for Loveliness
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,
But is, when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most.
She's adorned
Amply, that in her husband's eye looks lovely,—
The truest mirror that an honest wife
Can see her beauty in!
How his eyes languish! how his thoughts adore
That painted coat, which Joseph never wore!
He shows, on holidays, a sacred pin,
That touch'd the ruff, that touched Queen Bess' chin.
Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt,
And oftener chang'd their principles than shirt.
La ropa no da ciencia.
Dress does not give knowledge.
APPARITIONS
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!
Who gather round, and wonder at the tale
Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly,
That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand
O'er some new-open'd grave; and, (strange to tell!)
Evanishes at crowing of the cock.
