My Loue in her Attyre doth shew her witt, 
It doth so well become her: 
For eu'ry season she hath dressings fitt, 
For Winter, Spring, and Summer. 
No Beautie shee doth misse,
When all her Robes are on: 
But Beauties selfe shee is, 
When all her Robes are gone.