35. Simplex Munditiis
—— B. Jonson
Still to be , still to be dresd
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered, still perfumed:
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art’s hid caus are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.
Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes looly flowing, hair as free:
Such sweet more taketh me
Than all the adulteries of art;
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.