Ben Jonson

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!

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.

But I do hate him as I hate the devil.

But I do hate him as I hate the devil.

'Tis no sin love's fruits to steal;
But the sweet thefts to reveal;
To be taken, to read more

'Tis no sin love's fruits to steal;
But the sweet thefts to reveal;
To be taken, to be seen,
These have crimes accounted been.

A pauper traveller will sing before a beggar.

A pauper traveller will sing before a beggar.