Maxioms by Ben Jonson
In the hope to meet
Shortly again, and make our absence sweet.
In the hope to meet
Shortly again, and make our absence sweet.
The burnt child dreads the fire.
The burnt child dreads the fire.
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.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of read more
The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
A countenance inconceivably forbidding.
A countenance inconceivably forbidding.
