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Updated: May 14, 2025


Paul's coffee-house," but he was obliged to add that as he entertained the highest veneration for the clergy he could not "contemplate the magnificence of the cathedral without reflecting on the abject condition of those 'tatter'd crapes, who are said to ply here for an occasional burial or sermon, with the same regularity as the happier drudges who salute us with the cry of 'coach, sir, or 'chair, your honour." Somewhat late in the eighteenth century St.

Her Eyes with scalding Rheum were gall'd and red, Cold Palsy shook her Head; her Hands seem'd wither'd; And on her crooked Shoulders had she wrap'd The tatter'd Remnants of an old striped Hanging, Which served to keep her Carcase from the Cold: So there was nothing of a Piece about her.

Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red; Cold palsy shook her head; her hands seem'd withered; And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapped The tatter'd remnants of an old strip'd hanging, Which serv'd to keep her carcase from the cold: So there was nothing of a piece about her.

O Riches, thy figure is charming and bright, And to speak in thy praise all the world doth delight, But I'm a poor fellow all tatter'd and torn, Whom all the world treateth with insult and scorn. However mistaken the judgment may be Of the world which is never from ignorance free, The parts we must play, which to us are assign'd, According as God has enlightened our mind.

C. one of the young man's gloves, which was torn in his pocket while she was by, which is so dexterously tatter'd and so artificially torn that it is conceived a cutler could not have contrived an instrument to have laid it abroad so accurately, and all this was done in the pocket in the compass of one minute.

The feast it was nigh, and the mass it was nigher, When before the fair Princess low looted a squire, And deliver'd a garment unseemly to view, With sword-cut and spear-thrust, all hack'd and pierc'd through; All rent and all tatter'd, all clotted with blood, With foam of the horses, with dust, and with mud; Not the point of that lady's small finger, I ween, Could have rested on spot was unsullied and clean.

Or take his poem called "Old Ireland:" "Far hence amid an isle of wondrous beauty, Crouching over a grave an ancient sorrowful mother, Once a queen, now lean and tatter'd, seated on the ground, Her old white hair drooping, dishevel'd, round her shoulders, At her feet fallen an unused royal harp, Long silent, she, too, long silent, mourning her shrouded hope and heir, Of all the earth her heart most full of sorrow because most full of love.

Add, that the Rich have still a Gibe in Store, And will be monstrous witty on the Poor; For the torn Surtout and the tatter'd Vest, The Wretch and all his Wardrobe are a Jest: The greasie Gown sully'd with often turning, Gives a good Hint to say the Man's in Mourning; Or if the Shoe be ript, or Patch is put, He's wounded I see the Plaister on his Foot.

What though she milk no cow with crumpled horn, Yet, aye she haunts the dale where erst she stray'd: And, aye beside her stalks her amorous knight! Still on his thighs his wonted brogues are worn, And through those brogues, still tatter'd and betorn, His hindward charms gleam an unearthly white; As when through broken clouds, at night's high moon.

And wo be to the Child-bed woman, if they do but find any where a Clout, Napkin or Towel, that by chance hath either a hole or a rent in it: for one or another of them will with grinning and laughing thrust her finger through it, and then shew it to the rest, taking also the first opportunity she can lay hold of, when they are a little at liberty, to make a whole tittle-tattle about it, and very much admireth the carelessness and negligence of the Child-bed woman; as if she were a greater wast-all, and worse house-wife than any of them else when to the contrary, if you should by accident come into any of their Garrets, when the linnen is just come home from washing you would oftentimes find it in such a condition, that you might very well imagine your self to be in Westminster Hall where the Colours that are Trophies of honour are hung up, one full of holes, another tatter'd & torn, and a third full of mildew.

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