Ben Jonson's "“Still to be neat, still to be dressed...”

Picture two cakes: one a vision of sugary crystal embellishments, the quintessence of a pristine pastry, pale, and undented by fork or palette knife. Upon slicing into this delight of visual decadence, the center is revealed to taste of air. Clouded by the layers of flaky fondant, underneath all its eye-eating trappings, there is no flavor. Adjacent to this artificial delicacy, is a countenance of sweet ruggedness, the product of a rusted old oven and little garnish. Though plain, it is inviting, and upon the first bite it’s taste is that of chocolate, homely memories, and second servings. Both deserts evoke a craving but only the latter truly satisfies the desire of the palate, and not only the attention of the eye. This can be said of many things, but is a theme particularly prominent in Ben Jonson’s sonnet, “Still to be Neat.” Jonson uses contrasting imagery to show the superficiality of appearance and the reality of the human heart. Through his use of simple repetition, his poem reveals the human desire for authenticity of the heart as well as the face. To untie this idea it is necessary to examine the historical pretext of Jonson’s work, its narrator’s quandary, and that of the reader.

The title itself is gripping and implies an air of amusement that transpires into a sardonic sentiment at the end of the first sestet. The poem’s speaker addresses a woman, presumably his wife or a lover, due to the pointed picture of her readying herself to go out while the man surveys the scene. The process which Jonson describes, was one awarded to women in the Elizabethan era who achieved some level of status or comfort in society. Such status would have allotted them the time and effort it took to embellish themselves for societal purposes. The period in which Jonson writes is one that mirrors that tendency. It was an era accented by Shakespeare, seafaring, and women strolling down the streets of London covered in layers, and layers of clothing and cosmetics. Upon first glance an elegant woman's skin could be mistaken for porcelain, “powdered and perfumed” Because to appear made of glass, was an indication of one’s class. Jonson even acknowledges adornment as a social expectation, dutifully noting, “Lady, it is to be presumed” (4). Upon first hearing this, one might argue that Jonson’s poem simply serves as a rejection of consumerist culture, using historical pre-text to support this claim. Or perhaps, one might perceive the second sestet to act as a total rejection of beautification, citing, “Such sweet neglect more taketh me” as evidence of this. Yet, to make such assertions is to merely scrape the flowery surface of the cake rather than slicing into its rich layers. It is only when Jonson’s stanzas are unveiled do we find that the narrator’s true vexation lies in the subject’s reconfiguration of self in order to conform to this culture.

This re-shaping of self occurs not only in her dress but in her demeanor. A change in manners, an addition in airs, or some additional veilment of self, all occurs in this transformation. The first line, “Still to be neat, still to be dressed,” (1) uses anaphora to show the dual nature of the narrator’s quandary: his beloved not only feels that she needs to embellish herself, but finds a need to do it constantly, even in his presence. The poem’s crescendo begins at the end of the first sestet: “Though art’s hid causes are not found. / All is not sweet, all is not sound.” (5-6) As if the speaker is saying, “I know not what causes your being too artful, but there is nothing good in it.” This repetition echoes the painstaking pattern of constantly applying layers and layers to oneself both externally and internally.

After unmasking this artificiality, Jonson then transitions to a sincere plea from the speaker. “Give me a look, give me a face, / That makes simplicity a grace;” (7-8) Imploring her to give of herself rather than sell an altered more marketable version to society. He reassures her through the repetition of the word “give,” of her worth without accessories, comparing simplicity to grace. In tandem with that statement he urges her simply, “Robes loosely flowing, hair as free;” (9) That she be unconstrained by society. He asserts that, “Such sweet neglect more taketh me / Than all th’adulteries of art.” (10-11) Likening her primping to a craft, but not one of virtue. Her facial facade is not for the man’s sake, there is something in his plea that suggests a desire for her to turn her focus to him and their relationship rather than the frills of her ruff. To him, this display appears ostentatious, artificial, and unreal.

So much is held in a face. To Jonson, a person’s face pairs with their heart. A true lover craves the heart to the whole, we learn to love the person despite their disheveledness and take delight in their artless being. In their imperfections, we find beauty, not because of the imperfection itself, but because of the face it belongs to. After all, love is rooted in the soul and not the eyes. Yet, how can the soul be seen if the face is concealed? How can the soul be laid bare if suffocated by the cuffs of societal behaviors and expectations. The soul has no breath, no life, no sweetness. It, “strike mine eyes, but not my heart.” (12)

There is a beauty in Jonson’s bluntness: no human being desires disingenuousness, though we may be swayed by the sea of appearances our hearts long for authenticity. Even though masses of women and even men, stroll the streets of our modern culture darting to every trend, new brush and balm, every new “hack”, in the craft of concealment, Jonson sympathizes with the modern surveyor. We inhabit a world which encourages filters to the face as well as the heart. Still, when the trappings are torn away, man’s desire for authenticity of the heart and the face will always remain. Just as our eyes may dart to the piped crown of the feast in awe, we hunger for something sweeter, wholesome, and real.