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