Ben Jonson

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.

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.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of read more

The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.

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.

A prince without letters is a Pilot without eyes. All his
government is groping.

A prince without letters is a Pilot without eyes. All his
government is groping.