7 Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice. Take each man's censure, (1) but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, Are most select and generous, chief in that. This above all: to thine own self be true, OUTWARD SHOW. The world is still deceiv'd with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being season'd with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What damned error, but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts. How many cowards, whose hearts are as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins, The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk; And these assume but valour's excrement, Which therein works a miracle in nature, 20 TRANSITORY GLORIES. Be cheerful, sir, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, (The Tempest IV, 1.) 10 HUMAN LIFE. Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player stage To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, That struts and frets his hour upon the candle, 5 And then is heard no more: it is a tale BEN JONSON. BEN EN JONSON was born at Westminster in the year 1574, where he was educated in a grammar school. The death of his father took place before his birth, and his mother's second husband, a bricklayer, obliged his stepson to follow his own avocation. Ben, however, ran away and served as a soldier in the Low Countries. On his return to England he studied at Cambridge, but the want of funds prevented his staying there. In 1596 he commenced his career as an author by publishing a comedy, 'Every Man in his Humour,' which found favour with Queen Elizabeth, and Jonson's reputation was at once made. This was followed by a number of comedies and tragedies, as for instance Cynthia's Revels,' 'Sejanus, Eastward Hoe' (written in conjunction with Chapman and Marston, for which the three were imprisoned a considerable period), 'Volpone or the Fox.' 'Epicene or the Silent Woman, The Alchemist' and "The Devil is an Ass. In 1614 the University of Oxford conferred upon him the degree of Master of Arts, and in 1619 he obtained the office of Poet Laureate with a pension. From 1625 his health began to decline, and the productions of his pen showed no longer the same vigour they are styled by Dryden his dotages. His latest com positions were The Magnetic Lady' (1632) and The Tale of a Tub' (1634). He left a very beautiful unfinished drama, entitled "The Sad Shepherd,' and died in 1637, at the age af sixty-three. His scenes and characters exhibit an extensive knowledge of life, and his comic characters, though often exaggerated, bear evidence of wit, of which, however, he was rather frugal. On his tomb in Westminster-Abbey was inscribed this epigram: 'O Rare Ben Jonson.' HYMN TO DIANA. Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep; Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep. Earth, let not thy envious shade Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal shining quiver: Give unto the flying heart, Space to breathe, how short soever; Thou that mak'st a day of night, Goddess excellently bright! THE SWEET NEGLECT. Still to be neat, still to be drest, O, could I lose all father, now! for why, 5 rage, And, if no other misery, yet age! Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry: 10 For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such, As what he loves may never like too much. ON MARGARET RATCLIFFE. Rare as wonder was her wit; 15 Life, whose grief was out of fashion 5 Though art's hid causes are not found, ON MY FIRST SON. 10 Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd Seven bov: years thou wert lent to me, and I Exacted by thy fate, on the just day. 5 10 15 ADVICE TO A RECKLESS YOUTH. Learn to be wise, and practise how to Your coin on every bauble that you fancy, (1) Burnt-out wick of a candle. 15 was. The sun stood still, and was, behind the cloud But moderate your expenses now (at first) 20 | They knew not what a crime their valour 25 THE FALL OF CATILINE. Petreius. The straits and needs of Catiline being such, As he must fight with one of the two armies That then had near inclosed him, it pleas'd fate To make us the object of his desperate choice, Wherein the danger almost pois'd the honour: 5 And, as he rose, the day grew black with him, And fate descended nearer to the earth, At this we roused, lest one small minute's 15 The paleness of the death that was to come; 20 Yet cried they out like vultures, and urged on, Which out, it seem'd a narrow neck of land, Had broke between two mighty seas, and either Flow'd into other; for so did the slaughter; Meet and not yield. (1) Prey. men The battle made, seen sweating, to drive up His frighted horse, whom still the noise drove backward; And now had fierce Enyo, like a flame 35 Consum'd all it could reach, and then itself, Had not the fortune of the commonwealth, Come, Pallas-like, to every Roman thought: Which Catiline seeing, and that now his troops 40 Cover'd the earth they 'ad fought on with their trunks, Ambitious of great fame, to crown his ill Collected all his fury, and ran in (Arm'd with a glory high as his despair) Into our battle, like a Libyan lion Upon his hunters, scornful of our weapons, 43 Careless of wounds, plucking down lives about him, Till he had circled on himself with death: Then fell he too, t'embrace it where it lay. And as in that rebellion 'gainst the gods, Minerva holding forth Medusa's head, One of the giant brethren felt himself Grow marble at the killing sight; and now, Almost made stone, began to inquire what flint, that crept through all his limbs; And, ere he could think more, was that he fear'd: What rock, it was So Catiline, at the sight of Rome in us, As if he labour'd yet to grasp the state & TOWERING SENSUALITY. Sir Epicure Mammon, expecting to obtain the Phisopher's Stone, riots in the anticipation of enjoymer?. Enter Mammon and Surly. Mam. Come on, sir. Now, you set your foot on shore In Novo Orbe: here's the rich Peru: And there within, sir, are the golden mines. Great Solomon's Ophir! he was sailing tot Three years; but we have reach'd it in te months. This is the day, wherein, to all my friends, | I will pronounce the happy word, Be Rich. |