Ben Jonson ( 10 of 57 )
Follow a shadow, it still flies you,
Seem to fly, it will pursue:
So court a mistress, read more
Follow a shadow, it still flies you,
Seem to fly, it will pursue:
So court a mistress, she denies you;
Let her alone, she will court you.
Say are not women truly, then,
Styled but the shadows of us men?
I am grieved that it should be said he is my brother, and take these courses. Well, as he brews, read more
I am grieved that it should be said he is my brother, and take these courses. Well, as he brews, so shall he drink, for George again. Yet he shall hear on't, and tightly, too, an' I live, i'faith.
And so to tread
As if the wind, not she, did walk;
Nor prest a flower, nor read more
And so to tread
As if the wind, not she, did walk;
Nor prest a flower, nor bow'd a stalk.
--They write here one Cornelius--Son
Hath made the Hollanders an invisible eel
To swim the haven at read more
--They write here one Cornelius--Son
Hath made the Hollanders an invisible eel
To swim the haven at Dunkirk, and sink all
The shipping there.
--But how is't done?
--I'll show you, sir.
It is automa, runs under water
With a snug nose, and has a nimble tail
Made like an auger, with which tail she wriggles
Betwixt the costs of a ship and sinks it straight.
All concord's born of contraries.
All concord's born of contraries.
Hang sorrow, care 'll kill a cat.
Hang sorrow, care 'll kill a cat.
I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.
. . . read more
I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree.
. . . .
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Her treading would not bend a blade of grass,
Or shake the downy blow-ball from his stalk!
Her treading would not bend a blade of grass,
Or shake the downy blow-ball from his stalk!
Yet the best pilots have need of mariners, besides sails, anchor
and other tackle.
Yet the best pilots have need of mariners, besides sails, anchor
and other tackle.
Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Which read more
Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.
