Ben Jonson

The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
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The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
And though the sound had parted thence,
Still left an echo in the sense.

A third Cato has dropped from the skies.

A third Cato has dropped from the skies.

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?

A brute without a single redeeming point.

A brute without a single redeeming point.

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.