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, ...
'Tis growne almost a danger to speake true Of any good minde, now: There are so few.The bad, by number, ...
How blest art thou, canst love the countrey, Wroth, Whether by choyce, or fate, or both!And, though so neere the ...
Thou art not, Penshurst, built to envious show, Of touch, or marble; nor canst boast a rowOf polish'd pillars, or ...
Not to know vice at all, and keepe true state, Is vertue, and not Fate:Next, to that vertue, is to ...
Not to know vice at all, and keep true state, Is virtue and not fate:Next to that virtue, is to ...
Where dost thou careless lie, Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps doth die; And this ...
Fortune, that favours fools, these two short hours,We wish away, both for your sakes and ours,Judging spectators; and desire, in ...
Let it not your wonder move, Less your laughter, that I love. Though I now write fifty years, ...
This morning, timely rapt with holy fire,I thought to form unto my zealous Muse What kind of creature I could ...
The fairy beam upon you, The stars to glister on you; A moon of light ...
Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy. ...
How I do love thee, Beaumont, and thy muse,That unto me dost such religion use!How I do fear myself, that ...
The fairy beam upon you, The stars to glister on you; A moon of light In the noon of night, ...
Where dost thou careless lie, Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps doth die; And this security, It is ...
Let it not your wonder move, Less your laughter, that I love. Though I now write fifty years, I have ...
Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy. Seven ...
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