How like a pageant he doth walk the street!
See how his perfumed head is powdered ore;
'Twou'd stink else, for it wanted salt before."
In "Musarum Deliciæ," 1655, we read:—
"At the devill's shopps you buy
A dresse of powdered hayre,
On which your feathers flaunt and fly;
But i'de wish you have a care,
Lest Lucifer's selfe, who is not prouder,
Do one day dresse up your haire with a powder."