When this old cap was new
'Tis since two hundred years.

When this old cap was new
'Tis since two hundred years.

To treat a poor wretch with a bottle of Burgundy, and fill his
snuff-box, is like giving a pair read more

To treat a poor wretch with a bottle of Burgundy, and fill his
snuff-box, is like giving a pair of laced ruffles to a man that
has never a shirt on his back.

A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night,--a stocking all the day.

A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night,--a stocking all the day.

It's like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt.

It's like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt.

He that is proud of the rustling of his silks, like a madman,
laughs at the ratling of his read more

He that is proud of the rustling of his silks, like a madman,
laughs at the ratling of his fetters. For indeed, Clothes ought
to be our remembrancers of our lost innocency.

Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone.

Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone.

Dress drains our cellar dry,
And keeps our larder lean; puts out our fires
And introduces hunger, read more

Dress drains our cellar dry,
And keeps our larder lean; puts out our fires
And introduces hunger, frost, and woe,
Where peace and hospitality might reign.

Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast,
Still to read more

Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast,
Still to be powder'd, all perfum'd.
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square,
Has made three separate journeys to Paris,
And her father assures read more

Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square,
Has made three separate journeys to Paris,
And her father assures me each time she was there
That she and her friend Mrs. Harris . . .
Spent six consecutive weeks, without shopping
In one continuous round of shopping,-- . . .
And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day
This merchandise went on twelve carts, up Broadway,
This same Miss McFlimsey of Madison Square
The last time we met was in utter despair
Becasue she had nothing whatever to wear.