After he had administer'd a dose Of snuff mundungus to his nose; And powder'd th' inside of his skull, Instead of th' outward jobbernol, He shook it with a scornful look On th' adversary, and thus he spoke.
Still to be powder'd, still perfum'd, Lady, it is to be presum'd, 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.Ben Jonson
Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast, Still to be powder'd, still perfum'd. Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound.Ben Jonson