When his wife asked him to change clothes to meet the German
Ambassador: "If they want to see me, read more

When his wife asked him to change clothes to meet the German
Ambassador: "If they want to see me, here I am. If they want to
see my clothes, open my closet and show them my suits."

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.

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.

How his eyes languish! how his thoughts adore
That painted coat, which Joseph never wore!
He shows, read more

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.

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.

(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.

A vest as admired Voltiger had on,
Which from this Island's foes his grandsire won,
Whose artful read more

A vest as admired Voltiger had on,
Which from this Island's foes his grandsire won,
Whose artful colour pass'd the Tyrian dye,
Obliged to triumph in this legacy.

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.

John Lee is dead, that good old man,--
We ne'er shall see him more:
He used to read more

John Lee is dead, that good old man,--
We ne'er shall see him more:
He used to wear an old drab coat
All buttoned down before.