Petticoat breeches had disappeared by the end of the reign of Charles II., and we have now to deal with another distinct change in the national costume. In an inventory of apparel of Charles II. in 1679 appears a suit of clothes of one material, and consisting of _coat_, waistcoat, and breeches. William III. is figured in 1694 in a long laced coat with enormous sleeve cuffs, the waistcoat almost as long as the coat, with large flaps and pockets also richly laced, the nether garments being knee breeches and stockings with buckled shoes, the hat cocked according to the fancy of the wearer. This coat, indeed, has, with variations, existed up to the present time. The gold lacings, the rows of buttons down the front, the huge cuffs, indeed, have vanished; but the modern coat is, fundamentally, the same as its earliest prototype. The two buttons at the back, which now serve no purpose other than an ornamental one, once buttoned up the flaps, and constitute the last remains of the coat's former glories. Towards the middle of the eighteenth century the coat fits tightly to the body, the skirts being long and ample, and made to stand out stiffly by being lined with buckram; the large Kevenhuller hat has given place to one of much more moderate proportions. [Illustration: PHILIPPE DE VENDÔME, GRAND PRIEUR DE FRANCE. _From an old print in the British Museum._] The fop of the day is thus ridiculed by Diana in the play of "Lionel and Clarissa," by Isaac Bickerstaff, 1768:-- "Ladies, pray admire a figure, Fait selon le dernier gout. First, his hat, in size no bigger Than a Chinese woman's shoe; Six yards of ribbon bind His hair en baton behind; While his foretop's so high, That in the crown he may vie With the tufted cockatoo. Then his waist so long and taper 'Tis an absolute thread-paper: Maids, resist him, you that can. Odd's life, if this is all th' affair, I'll clap a hat on, club my hair, And call myself a man." The short hair and large bishop's sleeves of the clergy are satirised in the same play:-- "Lauk! Madam, do you think, when Mr. Lionel's a clergyman, he'll be obliged to cut off his hair? I'm sure it will be a thousand pities, for it is the sweetest colour! and your great pudding-sleeves, Lord! they'll quite spoil his shape, and the fall of his shoulders. Well, Madam, if I was a lady of large fortune, I'll be hanged if Mr. Lionel should be a parson, if I could help it." FOOTNOTES: [11] Embroidery. [12] Fairholt, "Costume in England." V THE KIRTLE OR PETTICOAT "_Falstaff._ What trade art thou, Feeble? "_Feeble._ A woman's tailor, sir. "_Shallow._ Shall I prick him, sir? "_Falstaff._ You may; but if he had been a man's tailor he would have pricked you--Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle, as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat? "_Feeble._ I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more.