Ben Jonson

The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
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The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
And though the sound had parted thence,
Still left an echo in the sense.

For he that once is good, is ever great.

For he that once is good, is ever great.

In the hope to meet
Shortly again, and make our absence sweet.

In the hope to meet
Shortly again, and make our absence sweet.

A brute without a single redeeming point.

A brute without a single redeeming point.

The gods
Grow angry with your patience. 'Tis their care,
And must be yours, that guilty men read more

The gods
Grow angry with your patience. 'Tis their care,
And must be yours, that guilty men escape not:
As crimes do grow, justice should rouse itself.