Maxioms by Ben Jonson
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long read more
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it falls and die that night--
It was the plant and flower of Light.
He knows not his own strength that hath not met adversity.
He knows not his own strength that hath not met adversity.
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.
Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast,
Still to read more
Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast,
Still to be powder'd, all perfum'd.
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.
