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Ben Jonson

Simplex Munditiis

STILL to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powder'd, still perfumed:
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes 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 loosely flowing, hair as free:
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all th' adulteries of art;
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

 
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About the poet
Ben Jonson
 
By the same poet
A Farewell to the World
Hymn to Diana
To Celia
The Shadow
The Triumph
An Elegy
The Noble Balm
Epitaph (i): On Elizabeth L.H.
Epitaph (ii): On Salathiel Pavy
 
Related books
Ben Jonson at amazon.com


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