Poetry
Quotes
Epicoene, or the Silent Woman: Still to be neat, still to be drest
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. Poem by Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson Poetry
Epitaph on ElizabethOn My First Sonne (on my first son)
To Celia
