Note 211 — Chapter XIII · MEN'S DRESS.

Nor should it prove thy less important Care, To Chuse a proper Coat for Winter's Wear. Now in thy Trunk thy Doily Habit fold, The silken Drugget ill can fence the cold; The Frieze's spongy Nap is soak'd with Rain, And Show'rs soon drench the Camlet's cockled Grain. True Witney Broad Cloth with its Shag unshorn, Unpierc'd is in the lasting Tempest worn: Be this the Horse man's Fence; for who would wear Amid the Town the Spoils of Russia's Bear? Within the Roquelaure's Clasp thy Hands are pent, Hands, that stretch'd forth invading Harms prevent. Let the looped Bavaroy the Fop embrace, Or his deep Cloak be spatter'd o'er with Lace. That Garment best the Winter's Rage defends, Whose shapeless Form in ample Plaits depends; By various Names[211] in various Counties known, Yet held in all the true Surtout alone: Be thine of Kersey firm, though small the Cost, Then brave unwet the Rain, unchill'd the Frost.[212]