Ben Jonson

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.

Great honours are great burdens, but on whom
They are cast with envy, he doth bear two loads.
read more

Great honours are great burdens, but on whom
They are cast with envy, he doth bear two loads.
His cares must still be double to his joys,
In any dignity.

I do honour the very flea of his dog.

I do honour the very flea of his dog.

Poor worms, they hiss at me, whilst I at home
Can be contented to applaud myself, . . . read more

Poor worms, they hiss at me, whilst I at home
Can be contented to applaud myself, . . . with joy
To see how plump my bags are and my barns.

--They write here one Cornelius--Son
Hath made the Hollanders an invisible eel
To swim the haven at read more

--They write here one Cornelius--Son
Hath made the Hollanders an invisible eel
To swim the haven at Dunkirk, and sink all
The shipping there.
--But how is't done?
--I'll show you, sir.
It is automa, runs under water
With a snug nose, and has a nimble tail
Made like an auger, with which tail she wriggles
Betwixt the costs of a ship and sinks it straight.