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.

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.

A sweet disorder in the dresse
Kindles in cloathes a wantonnesse.

A sweet disorder in the dresse
Kindles in cloathes a wantonnesse.

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.

She wears her clothes as if they were thrown on her with a
pitchfork.

She wears her clothes as if they were thrown on her with a
pitchfork.

A winning wave, (deserving note.)
In the tempestuous petticote,
A careless shoe-string, in whose tye
read more

A winning wave, (deserving note.)
In the tempestuous petticote,
A careless shoe-string, in whose tye
I see a wilde civility,--
Doe more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.

Not caring, so that sumpter-horse, the back
Be hung with gaudy trappings, in what course
Yea, rags read more

Not caring, so that sumpter-horse, the back
Be hung with gaudy trappings, in what course
Yea, rags most beggarly, they clothe the soul.

A painted vest Prince Voltiger had on,
Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won.

A painted vest Prince Voltiger had on,
Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won.

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.