Ben Jonson

I do honour the very flea of his dog.

I do honour the very flea of his dog.

Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Which read more

Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.

The burnt child dreads the fire.

The burnt child dreads the fire.

Follow a shadow, it still flies you,
Seem to fly, it will pursue:
So court a mistress, read more

Follow a shadow, it still flies you,
Seem to fly, it will pursue:
So court a mistress, she denies you;
Let her alone, she will court you.
Say are not women truly, then,
Styled but the shadows of us men?

The gods
Grow angry with your patience. 'Tis their care,
And must be yours, that guilty men read more

The gods
Grow angry with your patience. 'Tis their care,
And must be yours, that guilty men escape not:
As crimes do grow, justice should rouse itself.