On that laced jacket, framed of superfine.
How large a nation may a little net
Confine—what traps are in those trappings set!
Will the King give, what he has gained, a crown,
To Jones, Clark, Thompson, Jackson, Smith, or Brown?
All penceless pockets theirs—the man with cakes
For them stands still, or eats the tarts he makes.
Yet see yon lady; fifty pearls at least
Circle her arms, and might an army feast.
That zone for which a princess might have pined,