We envy none their nosegays and their sallets.
A gay rank soil like a young gallant grows
130And spends itself that it may wear fine clothes,
Whilst all its worth is to its back confined.
Our wear 's plain outside, but is richly lined;
Winter 's above, 'tis summer underneath,
A trusty morglay in a rusty sheath.
As precious sables sometimes interlace
A wretched serge or grogram cassock case.
Rocks own no spring, are pregnant with no showers,