"By dress we're won; gold, gems, and rich brocades Make up the pageant that your heart invades; In all that glittering figure which you see, The far least part of her own self is she; In vain for her you love amidst such cost You search, the mistress in such dress is lost."
Endroit: Chapter XII. Apology For Raimond Sebond. · ¶2808 Licence: Public domain · Source Le texte est donné tel que dans l'édition, sans retouche.