Ben Jonson Poems on Time (21 Poems)

A Pindaric Ode (Ben Jonson Poems)

THE TURN Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great year, When the prodigious Hannibal did crown His rage with razing your immortal town. Thou looking then … Continue reading →

XIII: Epistle: To Katherine, Lady Aubigny (Ben Jonson Poems)

‘Tis growne almost a danger to speake true Of any good minde, now: There are so few.The bad, by number, are so fortified, As what th’have lost t’expect, they dare deride.So both the prais’d, and praisers suffer: Yet, For others … Continue reading →

Ode (Ben Jonson Poems)

To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that Noble Pair, Sir LuciusCary and Sir Henry Morison. I. THE TURN. Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great year,When the prodigious Hannibal did crownHis cage, with razing … Continue reading →

XI: Epode (Ben Jonson Poems)

Not to know vice at all, and keepe true state, Is vertue, and not Fate:Next, to that vertue, is to know vice well, And her black spight expell.Which to effect (since no brest is so sure, Or safe, but shee’ll … Continue reading →

To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of That Noble Pair, Sir Lucius Cary and Sir H. Morison (Ben Jonson Poems)

The Turn Brave infant of Saguntum, clearThy coming forth in that great year,When the prodigious Hannibal did crownHis rage, with razing your immortal town.Thou looking then aboutEre thou wert half got out,Wise child, didst hastily return,And mad’st thy mother’s womb … Continue reading →

XII: Epistle To Elizabeth Countesse Of Rutland (Ben Jonson Poems)

Madame, VVhil’st that, for which all vertue now is sold, And almost every vice, almightie gold,That which, to boote with hell, is thought worth heaven, And for it, life, conscience, yea soules are given,Toyles, by grave custome, up and downe … Continue reading →

To the Memory of My Beloved Author, Mr. William Shakespeare (Ben Jonson Poems)

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor muse can praise too much; ’Tis true, … Continue reading →

To the Memory of My Beloved, The Author, Mr. William Shakespeare, (Ben Jonson Poems)

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man nor Muse can praise too much.`Tis true, and all men`s suffrage. But these … Continue reading →

V: Song: To Celia (Ben Jonson Poems)

Come my Celia, let us prove,While wee may, the sports of love;Time will not be ours, for’ever:He, at length, our good will fever.Spend not then his gifts in vaine.Sunnes, that set, may rise againe:But, if once wee lose this light,‘Tis, … Continue reading →

Song To Celia – I (Ben Jonson Poems)

Come, my Celia, let us proveWhile we may the sports of love;Time will not be ours forever,He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain;Suns that set may rise again,But if once we lose this … Continue reading →