Freedom in Dress by Ben Jonson. drest,
STILL to be neat, still to be
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered, 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 the adulteries of art:
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
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