A Poem
“I ride in a chair with my hands in a muff And have bought a silk coat and embroidered the cuff But the weather was cold and the coat was thin So the tailor advised me to line it with skin: But what with my Nivernois hat can compare Bag, wig and laced ruffled, and black solitaire? And what can a man of true fashion denote Like an ell of good ribbon tyed under the throat? My buckles and box are of exquisite taste The one is of paper the other of paste.”