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.

(Cloten:) Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my clothes?
(Guiderius:) No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
read more

(Cloten:) Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my clothes?
(Guiderius:) No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather. He made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee.

Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style.
Amaze th' learn'd, and make the learned smile.

Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style.
Amaze th' learn'd, and make the learned smile.

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy,
For read more

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy,
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are of a most select and generous chief in that.

O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
And read more

O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
And heightens ease with grace.

But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare,
When at the same moment she had on read more

But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare,
When at the same moment she had on a dress
Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less,
And jewelry worth tem times more, I should guess,
That he had not a thing in the wide world to wear!

And, after all, it is style alone by which posterity will judge
of a great work, for an author read more

And, after all, it is style alone by which posterity will judge
of a great work, for an author can have nothing truly his own but
his style.

My galligaskins, that have long withstood
The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts,
By time subdues (what will read more

My galligaskins, that have long withstood
The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts,
By time subdues (what will not time subdue!)
An horrid chasm disclosed.

He will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a color she
abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she read more

He will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a color she
abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will
smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her
disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it
cannot but turn him into a notable contempt.