Maxioms by Ben Jonson
It will never come out of the flesh that's bred in the bone.
It will never come out of the flesh that's bred in the bone.
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.
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!
Digestive cheese, and fruit there sure will be.
Digestive cheese, and fruit there sure will be.
Nay, if he take you in hand, sir, with an argument,
He'll bray you in a mortar.
Nay, if he take you in hand, sir, with an argument,
He'll bray you in a mortar.
