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 ib 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.
��jp7 The Shadow
FOLLOW a bhadow, it still flics you; Seem to fly it, it will pursue. So court a mistress, she denies you; Let her alone, she will court you. Say, aie not women truly, then, Styled but the shadows of us
��At morn and even, shades are longest;
At noon they are or short or none: So men at weakest, they are strongest,
But grant us perfect, they're not known. Say, are not women truly, then, Styled but the shadows of us men?
�� �
