TARTE COSMETICS

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1. A Modern Dialogue in the Bard’s Style

   Gwyneth Paltrow:
   Dost thou still love, dear William, as thou once did?
   Or hath the fire of passion turned to ash,
   Lost ‘neath the weight of time’s relentless tread?
   For beauty fades, and yet, no art exists—
   No alchemy nor painted charm devised—
   To keep the bloom upon the lily’s cheek.
   White women stand as beauty’s golden mold,
   The standard set, yet unattained by all.

   William Shakespeare:
   Fair Gwyneth, dost thou muse on such vain arts?
   What powders, paints, or tinctures could compare
   To nature’s hand, that crafts both rose and thorn?
   I’ve seen enough of “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,”
   A fleeting jest, a folly of the age.
   True beauty lies not in the golden hue,
   Nor alabaster skin, nor locks of light,
   But in the heart that beats with honest fire,
   And eyes that mirror love, unfeigned, unmasked.

   Gwyneth Paltrow:
   Yet still, we yearn for mirrors to be kind,
   For fleeting youth preserved in jars of cream.
   Is it so wrong to seek immortal grace,
   When time’s cruel hand doth steal it from our face?

   William Shakespeare:
   Nay, wrong it is not, yet a fruitless chase.
   The fairest face may hold the world in thrall,
   But love, sweet love, transcends the fleeting form.
   Seek not the gilded mask, but truth within,
   For beauty’s fleeting, yet the soul’s divine.

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