Date: 1593

"[A]s wee apparaile our selves in Beastes skinnes, in self same sort we clothe our soules in theyr sinnes"

— Nashe, Thomas (bap. 1567, d. c. 1601)

Date: 1598

"Sorrow so royally in you appears / That I will deeply put the fashion on, / And wear it in my heart."

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1600

"Such harmony is in immortal souls, /But whilst this muddy vesture of decay / Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it."

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1650

"His gay robe's lined with a restlesse mind"

— Baron, Robert (1630-1658)

Date: 1659

"Not that the Plastick virtue, awakened by the Imperium of her Will, shall renew all the lineaments it did in this Earthly Body (for abundance of them are useless and to no purpose, which therefore, Providence so ordaining, will be silent in this aiery figuration, and onely such operate as are fi...

— More, Henry (1614-1687)

Date: 1664

"These things being thus premised, may it not be probable enough that these Spirits in the other World, shall onely be the Soul's Vehicle and Habit, and indeed really that [GREEK], mentioned by the Apostle; by a vital re-union with which, it may supereminently out-act all that ever she was able t...

— Power, Henry (1623-1668)

Date: 1666

Elocution is " that art of clothing and adorning that thought so found and varied, in apt, significant, and sounding word."

— Dryden, John (1631-1700)

Date: 1667

"But to do this always, and never be able to write a line without it, though it may be admired by some few pedants, will not pass upon those who know that wit is best conveyed to us in the most easy language; and is most to be admired when a great thought comes dressed in words so commonly receiv...

— Dryden, John (1631-1700)

Date: 1671

"But all your flame and passion's pure: / Your thoughts you show in such a comely dress, / As never sullied Theater nor Press."

— Howard, Edward (bap. 1624, d. 1712)

Date: 1681

"Here at the fountain's sliding foot, / Or at some fruit tree's mossy root, / Casting the body's vest aside, / My soul into the boughs does glide; / There like a bird it sits and sings, / Then whets, and combs its silver wings; / And, till prepar'd for longer flight, / Waves in its plumes the var...

— Marvell, Andrew (1621-1678)