Poem by Alexander Brome

To a Painted Lady

Leave these deluding tricks and shows,
Be honest and downright;
What Nature did to view expose,
Don't you keep out of sight.
The novice youth may chance admire
Your dressings, paints and spells;
But we that are expert desire
Your sex for somewhat else.

In your adored face and hair,
What virtue could you find,
If women were like angels fair,
And every man were blind?
You need no pains or time to waste
To set your beauties forth,
With oils, and paint, and drugs, that cost
More than the face is worth.

Nature her self, her own work does
And hates all needless arts,
And all your artificial shows
Disgrace your nat'ral parts.
You're flesh and blood and so are we,
Let flesh and blood alone,
To love all compounds hateful be:
Give me the pure, or none. 

1. The Safe Estate
2. To a Lady that turned her Cheek
3. The Reformation
4. The Pastoral
5. The New Mountebank

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