Ben Jonson

O what is it proud slime will not believe
Of his own worth, to hear it equal praised
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O what is it proud slime will not believe
Of his own worth, to hear it equal praised
Thus with the gods?

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.

This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had read more

This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had a strife
With Nature, to outdo the life:
Oh, could he but have drawn his wit
As well in brass, as he has hit
His face, the print would then surpass
All that was ever writ in brass;
But since he cannot, reader, look
Not on his picture, but his book.

He knows not his own strength that hath not met adversity.

He knows not his own strength that hath not met adversity.

Hang sorrow, care 'll kill a cat.

Hang sorrow, care 'll kill a cat.