A Pindaric Ode (Ben Jonson Poems)
THE TURN Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great year, ...
Ben Jonson Poems (127 Poems)
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, ...
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 ...
To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of That Noble Pair, Sir Lucius Cary and Sir H. Morison (Ben Jonson Poems)
The TurnBrave infant of Saguntum, clearThy coming forth in that great year,When the prodigious Hannibal did crownHis rage, with razing ...
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 ...
III: To Sir Robert Wroth (Ben Jonson Poems)
How blest art thou, canst love the countrey, Wroth, Whether by choyce, or fate, or both!And, though so neere the ...
To Penshurst (Ben Jonson Poems)
Thou art not, Penshurst, built to envious show, Of touch, or marble; nor canst boast a rowOf polish'd pillars, or ...
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, ...
Epode (Ben Jonson Poems)
Not to know vice at all, and keep true state, Is virtue and not fate:Next to that virtue, is to ...
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 ...
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 ...
Ode upon the Censure of his New Inn (Ben Jonson Poems)
Come, leave the loathed stage, And the more loathsome age; Where pride and impudence, in faction knit, ...
The Speech (Ben Jonson Poems)
The long laments I spent for ruin'd Troy,Are dried; and now mine eyes run teares of joy.No more shall men ...
XIV: Ode: To Sir William Sydney, On His Birth-day (Ben Jonson Poems)
Now that the harth is crown'd with smiling fire, And some do drink, and some do dance, Some ring, ...
The New Cry (Ben Jonson Poems)
Ere cherries ripe, and strawberries be gone; Unto the cries of London I'll add one; Ripe statesmen, ripe: ...
Inviting a Friend to Supper (Ben Jonson Poems)
Tonight, grave sir, both my poor house and I Do equally desire your company: Not that we think us ...
Nine stages towards Knowing (Ben Jonson Poems)
Why do we lie'Why do we lie,' she questioned, her warm eyeson the grey Autumn wind and its coursing,'all afternoon ...
Venus’ Runaway (Ben Jonson Poems)
Beauties, have ye seen this toy,Called Love, a little boy,Almost naked, wanton, blind;Cruel now, and then as kind?If he be ...
A Celebration of Charis: IV. Her Triumph (Ben Jonson Poems)
See the chariot at hand here of Love, Wherein my lady rideth! Each that draws is ...
VIII: Song: To Sicknesse (Ben Jonson Poems)
Why, Disease, dost thou molestLadies? and of them the best?Do not men, ynow of ritesTo thy altars, by their nightsSpent ...
The Triumph Of Charis (Ben Jonson Poems)
See the chariot at hand here of Love, Wherein my lady rideth! Each that draws is a swan ...
An Elegy (Ben Jonson Poems)
THOUGH beauty be the mark of praise, And yours of whom I sing be such As not the ...
An Ode to Himself (Ben Jonson Poems)
Where dost thou careless lie, Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps doth die; And this ...
A Farewell to the World (Ben Jonson Poems)
FALSE world, good night! since thou hast brought That hour upon my morn of age; Henceforth I quit thee ...
X: And Must I Sing? (Ben Jonson Poems)
And must I sing? what subject shall I chuse?Or whose great name in Poets heaven use?For the more countenance to ...
Praeludium (Ben Jonson Poems)
And must I sing? What subject shall I choose!Or whose great name in poets' heaven use,For the more countenance to ...
XV: To Heaven (Ben Jonson Poems)
Good, and great God, can I not think of thee, But it must, straight, my melancholy bee?Is it interpreted in ...
The Noble Balm (Ben Jonson Poems)
HIGH-SPIRITED friend,I send nor balms nor cor'sives to your wound: Your fate hath foundA gentler and more ...
The Alchemist: Prologue (Ben Jonson Poems)
Fortune, that favours fools, these two short hours,We wish away, both for your sakes and ours,Judging spectators; and desire, in ...
On Don Surly (Ben Jonson Poems)
Don Surly, to aspire the glorious name Of a great man, and to be thought the same,Makes serious use of ...