ere is some consolation, though I don't know why, in the knowledge that
writers have always found fault with women's fashions, as they do today.
Harrison says that the women do far exceed the lightness of the men;
"such staring attire as in time past was supposed meet for light
housewives only is now become an habit for chaste and sober matrons." And
he knows not what to say of their doublets, with pendant pieces on the
breast full of jags and cuts; their "galligascons," to make their dresses
stand out plumb round; their farthingales and divers colored stockings.
"I have met," he says, "with some of these trulls in London so disguised
that it hath passed my skill to determine whether they were men or
women." Of all classes the merchants were most to be commended for rich
but sober attire; "but the younger sort of their wives, both in attire
and costly housekeeping, cannot tell when and how to make an end, as
being women indeed in whom all kind of curiosity is to be found and
seen." Elizabeth's time, like our own, was distinguished by new
fashionable colors, among which are mentioned a queer greenish-yellow, a
pease-porridge-tawny, a popinjay of blue, a lusty gallant, and the "devil
in the hedge." These may be favorites still, for aught I know.

Mr. Furnivall quotes a description of a costume of the period, from the
manuscript of Orazio Busino's "Anglipotrida." Busino was the chaplain of
Piero Contarina, the Venetian ambassador to James I, in 1617. The
chaplain was one day stunned with grief over the death of the butler of
the embassy; and as the Italians sleep away grief, the French sing, the
Germans drink, and the English go to plays to be rid of it, the
Venetians, by advice, sought consolation at the Fortune Theatre; and
there a trick was played upon old Busino, by placing him among a bevy of
young women, while the concealed ambassador and the secretary enjoyed the
joke. "These theatres," says Busino, "are frequented by a number of
respectable and handsome ladies, who come freely and seat themselves
among the men without the slightest hesitation . . . . Scarcely was I
seated ere a very elegant dame, but in a mask, came and placed herself
beside me . . . . She asked me for my address both in French and English;
and, on my turning a deaf ear, she determined to honor me by showing me
some fine diamonds on her fingers, repeatedly taking off no fewer than
three gloves, which were worn one over the other . . . . This lady's